Fall from Grace
by El Limefred
Summary: Astrid is a proud warrior, the best of her generation. However, one night a raid goes terribly wrong, and she becomes the greatest prize that a Viking can hope to kill. Starving and alone, her only hope is Hiccup, the chief's odd son who, for some reason, cannot kill a dragon... Lesser seen transformation fic, Astrid!Dragon Active and open to suggestions
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Sparks flew off the grindstone as Hiccup sharpened yet another axe-head. He was sweating with effort, both to hold the metal firmly down, and to work the heavy pedal that rotated the stone. The fresh spring breeze did little to ease the stifling heat of forge in the next room. He had been working quickly, building up a stockpile of weaponry in case there was an attack that evening. A selection of fresh swords and axes were already leaning neatly against the wall, and this was his last one for the day.

"Hiccup, you keep going with those weapons, I'm off to see your father."

"Really… He wants to see you?" Hiccup managed between breaths. "I thought that the great Stoick didn't speak to mere mortal such as us."

"No, just mortals such as you Hiccup" Gobber chuckled back with his thick, deep voice. "It's something about new catapults for the ships, nothing you'd be interested in anyway."

"Not interested, until I end up building them, that is?"

"Aye, well… We all have to do our bit for the good of the tribe, duty and all that. I always found backbreaking labour to be fairly relaxing when it's done in the name of duty. I'm sure one day you'll understand."

"Alright then Gobber, let me know if my loving father can still remember my name."

His mentor laughed deeply as he hobbled out of the workshop. Hiccup couldn't help but smile slightly. The boy had always been a joker, even if it was mostly at his own expense, and Gobber was like a father to him. There were moments when he had to stop himself from calling him "dad" around the shop.

He sighed and got back to work. Normally, axe heads wouldn't take anywhere near this long to sharpen. As far as battles were concerned, it was difficult to penetrate scale armour, even with a sharp blade. Besides, Vikings normally swung the thing so hard that it would break bones, no matter how blunt it was. Sometimes, they didn't even need weapons. His father had ripped the head off a Monstrous Nightmare with nothing but his bare hands, as a baby, whilst still in his cot.

But this was no ordinary axe. This was Angarr Hofferson's family heirloom. With dragon training only a few short months away, Hiccup was convinced that Angarr would gift it to his beloved daughter. A love for Astrid was perhaps the only thing that he and Angarr had in common.

Angarr was well respected amongst the tribe. He was quick, intelligent, and one of the best warriors on the island. Chief Stoick valued his opinion highly, and had been known to occasionally change his mind after conferring with Angarr, a fact which astonished the son of the most stubborn Viking in the Archipelago.

The man was a walking legend, a veteran of countless battles, and the proud father of the most eligible bachelorette in the entire Hooligan tribe. He was a model citizen, and in truth, Hiccup found all of Angarr's success to be a little bit overwhelming. All of Hiccup's imaginary romances with Astrid ended abruptly when he was taken to meet her parents. He was dreading the day when the girl of his dreams stood him in front of her father and…

 _Calm down Hiccup, you have to get Astrid to actually like you before she takes you to meet her father._

Hiccup sighed again, longer and louder. He would never win over Astrid, not when he was the smallest, weakest, and most pathetic Viking to ever survive childbirth. The fact that he was the son of Stoick the Vast, one of the greatest, strongest and most heroic Vikings ever to become chief was an unhappy miracle. It was almost hopeless. Almost.

After finishing with the head, he oiled and polished the wooden shaft and secured the two together with some strong pins. He laid it carefully to one side, separate from the others, before going to fetch his hammer and chisel from the store room. He felt around under the counter, until his hand closed on a small bundle of cloth. He had not told Gobber about his little project, and he intended to keep it that way, in case he started asking difficult questions.

The dagger was almost finished. The blade was sharp and polished, and the grip had been decorated. Two long serpents curled their way up on either side, each one loving etched into the metal over many weeks. A ring of tiny jewels ran in a ring around the base of the weapon. They were small fragments, chipped off from more valuable jewellery over the years. An odd assortment of shapes and sizes in a bright variety of colours. Nonetheless, the effect was truly something to behold, when they sparkled in the sun at the perfect angle.

It was his present to Astrid, his response to Angarr's axe. He wanted to surprise her with it, and if he timed it exactly right, then maybe, just maybe it would work. She would fall into his arms and they would get married. Then he would then grow another 3 feet and become the greatest warrior on the planet and…

 _Focus Hiccup, one step at a time._

All that was left was to inscribe the base of the handle with the runes of her initials, A-H. He started with the 'H', as it was the easier of the two. He clamped the blade tightly in a vice, and carefully lined up his chisel. With one eye closed, he gently tapped with his hammer, twisting the chisel round as he did so. Within a minute the first rune had been clearly marked in the soft metal. He reset the chisel for the second rune and readied his hammer.

"Do you always work with your tongue out like that?"

"Ahhh! Ah, Astrid!" He panicked and dropped the hammer on his toe. He put his fist in his mouth to keep from screaming, whilst hopping up and down on one foot. "Ha, Hi, Hello. Hi there!"

"Uh, Hiccup? Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes." He replied in a high, squeaking voice. "I'm fine, fine are you fine? Of course you're fine I mean, not that you are ever _not_ fine, in like a normal, fine kind of way-"

"I'm just here to pick up my axe." She forced her way into the shop, pushing past the hopping boy. She scanned the row of weapons, running her finger across the top of them as she looked for hers. He was helpless to stop the blond Viking as she turned around, picking her way through the store, appraising everything with a cold, judgemental eye.

"Uh… I though your father was going to pick it up… I mean, isn't it… his?"

She swivelled around to look him in the eye, squaring her shoulders above Hiccup's slender frame. She spoke slowly, pronouncing every word like Hiccup was an idiot.

"It was my uncle's. My father is only looking after it until I come of age, actually."

"So its… yours then?"

"Exactly."

"It's not like a gift or anything, like a traditional…"

She silenced him with a look. She held his gaze for a few seconds, until he looked away. Her eyes began to wander around the room once more, until they came to rest on the dagger in the vice. She pushed past Hiccup for a second time.

"What's this then?"  
"Oh, it's nothing really. Just a stupid little project, a small-"

"A knife. Hmm…" She played with it in her hands, peering at the fine details along the grip. Hiccup was rigid with tension, and had forgotten to breathe.

"So… do you like it?"

She let the question hang for an uncomfortably long time as she continued to twist it around in her hands. After a while, she dropped it back on the counter, and smiled at Hiccup.

"I don't use knives. They're for little girls, not nearly enough power. Oh, there's my axe. I think I'll sharpen it this evening. Bye Hiccup."

She didn't look back as she shouldered her axe and strode out of the building. Picking up the shrivelled piece of metal, Hiccups heart sank. He looked at the 'H' on the base of the grip as he wiped off some dirt on the handle. He picked up the chisel, but then thought better of it. Slipping the blade into his back pocket, he dusted off his hands and packed the hammer away.

"Well, I guess she doesn't need it. It looks better with just an 'H' anyway."

He stared after her as she strode back towards the village centre, hips swaying, ignoring the boys as she passed by.

"She's probably dangerous enough not to need _any_ weapons."

He sighed for a third time and got back to work.

* * *

It had been the worst raid in history, and Berk was suffering for it.

Only Gothi and a select few elders could remember a time when so many Vikings had died, throats ripped out, skin charred. When so many buildings had been torn down, screaming occupants trapped inside. Normally, the attacks were focused on stealing food, with death and destruction an unfortunate necessity, but tonight was different.

They had approached low and fast from the South, gliding silently just above the waves. The lookouts were the first victims, completely unaware of their impending doom, right up until a pair of talons clamped down around their heads and necks, stifling their screams. Thin moonlight created impossibly dark shadows, covering their swift advance into the centre of the village. By the time somebody found the dismembered bodies of the night guards, it was already too late.

Dragons exploded from their hiding placed throughout the village. The sky was lit up with burning building, as the demons announced their arrival with jets of fire through doors and windows. Villagers were burned in their beds, waking up to a wall of flames and the smell of their own searing flesh. It was chaos. Those who had escaped their houses fled aimlessly in terror, but the dragons were everywhere. There was no organised resistance, only panic, terror and death.

That was, until Stoick the Vast rallied his people with a booming battle cry. Years of training, experience and brutal hardship had made them more than mere fishermen and farmers. They were Vikings, fighting men and women who would do anything for their chief. They grabbed what weapons they could, any fell into formation behind him.

The catapults were long gone, so the fighting had turned to a brutal melee, as the demons risked getting close enough to taste their victim's blood. Thoughts of glory quickly turned to survival as the beasts tore through the streets, an unstoppable scaled fist that levelled buildings and warriors alike. But the Vikings held on, fighting for every inch even as claws and flames battered their shield wall. Time was on their side, as every minute that passed brought them closer to dawn and safety. It was the most crucial point in the battle. If they could survive without breaking for just a little longer, the dragons would be forced to retreat, and the victory would be theirs.

Astrid Hofferson could see that there was no point continuing their fight against the fires, most of the buildings were already beyond hope, and it would be a waste of valuable water to try and save them. She threw her bucket down in anger as the house they had just extinguished collapsed, its supports burned to the core.

She ran back to the well, but it wasn't for more water. Propped up against the old, chipped stones was her most prized possession. The fine steel had developed a level of shine and vibrancy that came with years of polish, sharpening and impeccable care. The shaft had been replaced several times over the years, and was almost as pristine as the metal. The wood had been carved lovingly, and waxed so often that it too glistened as the flames lapped the night sky. She hefted it onto her shoulder, gripping with both hands for stability, taking comfort at its familiar weight. By this time, it was almost an extension of herself. Her grip tightened around her uncle's axe. Her hatred for dragons was unmatched in her peer group, and only on par with her desire to spill their blood. Ever since her Uncle had been taken, all those years ago, she had fought bitterly to regain her family's honour. _He_ did not sit back on fire duty whilst their very way of life was under attack, and neither would she.

She did not hear her friend's warnings as she took off into the village, searching for something, anything to kill. The fighting was thick all over the village, and she quickly came across the site of a recent skirmish. The bodies were still warm. Astrid charged a blood soaked Nadder, perched on the remains of its previous opponent. Axe raised, she rushed forward, screaming a battle cry, every facet of her being focused on ending this demon's life. Her axe made its signature hum as it swung through the air to meet – nothing. The creature had flown off with incredible speed, disappearing into the smoke and darkness the moment she attacked.

A Zippleback had flooded a nearby house with gas, the toxic green mist leaking out through the doors and windows, wisps snaking up towards the night sky. If the gas was lit, the pitiful wooden structure would be utterly destroyed, torn apart from the explosive force. It was somebody's home or livelihood, and she owed it to the village to hack off the dragon's head before another building was lost. She could still save it if she was fast.

There was no cry this time, just cold concentration as she sprung forward, axe held low, ready to chop upwards into its soft throat. But her hopes of dragon kill were cut slashed, as, just like the Nadder, it fled the moment she approached. She watched, livid, as its thin wings beat hard against the thick air, slowly gaining altitude and fading away into the darkness. She screamed her frustration to the Gods as another devil lived to fight another raid. The house was safe, but her victory felt hollow.

But Astrid's prayers were soon answered. Wood splintered and snapped behind her, as a dragon ploughed through a burning and collapsing building. Emerging from the bonfire that had once been a storage barn, a huge Nightmare crawled towards her, its slit eyes fixed to hers. It came slowly, deliberately, sniffing the air for her scent. It was totally focused on her, as if in a trance, deaf and blind to its surroundings. Never had she seen a dragon behave like this before. It was like it was looking into her very being, its gaze was so intense.

She stood her ground, she would not be paralysed by fear. She was the best of her generation, the born warrior, she would be the first to kill a Nightmare, this Nightmare. She was a _Hofferson_ , and she would reclaim her family's honour, even if she had to die with her hands around this devil's throat.

With almost inhuman speed, she flung herself forward, sacrificing balance for surprise. There were no thoughts; no hesitation, no fear. Her father had trained her well. In the heat of battle, there was not enough time to doubt one's actions, or to think carefully about the next move. Hours drilling the same movements, over and over again, made them as quick and effective as reflexes. For a fleeting second, her world was simple and elegant. The Nightmare and the steel axe head were the only things in existence. All of her momentum, her power, her hatred was focused into that engraved blade. Once again it hummed through the air, and lodged deeply into the wooden struts of the house in front of her.

The Nightmare, like the others, had retreated into the sky at the last second, a single, powerful flap propelling it into the air and out of the reach of Astrid's axe. Hovering above her, it threw its head up and roared to its brethren, before disappearing into the night. Ripping her axe from the wood, she screamed again. Why would nothing fight her, it was like they were deliberately avoiding her.

She took to the main street, the smell was overpowering now. She had grown up in constant fear of battles and raids, and was well used to the sour odour of death. This, however, was something else.

The sounds of battle were muffled by the crack and hiss of the burning buildings to either side. As her ears tuned this out, it was eerily quiet, save for the occasional roar or scream. The bodies here were unlike the others. It was just Vikings that littered the street, no dragon blood had been spilled. She would soon change that. The fallen warriors, for they were warriors, had no bite marks or gashes from claws. They were missing chunks of armour, as if it had been blown off by a powerful blast. Those who did have burns were horrific, as a searing heat had stripped their flesh right down to the bone. She looked away every time a shimmer of sickening white caught her eye.

A loud *Crack* made her swivel around to face her next challenge. She could hardly see what it was in the darkness, but the columns of flame reflecting off its glistening black hide gave her a good idea. She had never seen this type of dragon before, but then again, she had a suspicion that no one who had was still alive to tell the tale. She faltered for a second, as she realised that the crack had been the bones of one of the fallen warriors.

The Night Fury stalked towards her in the same way as the Nightmare, and she realised at that point that she was going to die. The slit black pupils and the deep green eyes of the creature met hers. All emotions seemed to melt away. She felt no fear, no pain, just… nothing. It padded irresistibly towards her, gently stepping over the corpses of its latest attack. She froze, unable to move, or even lift up her axe in the face of such an unprecedented terror. She watched transfixed as death slowly walked up to her, closer and closer, until its scales were brushing against her skin. Its breath blew her hair backwards, uncomfortably warm against the chill of the night air, and the cold sweat running down her back. It circled her, sniffing her up and down, confident in its overwhelming supremacy. For a second time, it met her eyes, the stare even deeper than the first. The pupils rounded slightly, in a look that was something akin to… relief. For the briefest of moments, Astrid thought that this dragon, fatal as it was, did not mean her harm.

A cry pierced the air as Vara Hofferson sprinted to the aid of her daughter. Roaring a deafening challenge, the dragon batted the desperate mother aside and into a wall with its powerful tail. Astrid suddenly came back to life as the beast plucked her from the ground with its claws. IN no time at all, it was in the air, flying low and fast towards the mountain and forests on outskirts of Berk. The last thing the Vara saw before she passed out was the unholy offspring of lightning and death, carrying off her only daughter. The screams would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Astrid was still screaming as the Night Fury laid her down in a clearing, standing on top of her, pinning her down with its powerful legs. The pressure on her chest was making it difficult to breath, and she was close to hyperventilating. She was in tears now, all traces of the heroic warrior long gone. She was going to be tortured and eaten by the most hellish creature on the face of the Earth. Her short life would have been pointless. There would be nothing left of her but rags of clothing. She doubted that even those would ever be found.

Closing her eyes, she tried to think of Valhalla, and held her breath, waiting for the inevitable. She hoped, _prayed_ that death would come quickly and cleanly, and she would be allowed a place in the halls of her ancestors. She would not get her wish.

The pressure on her chest was suddenly lifted, and she immediately regretted opening her eyes. The beast was glowing, streaks of blue along its spine and in its chest. It reared up to an impossible height and stature, wisps of blue flame escaping its mouth as it built up an unfathomable amount of energy. Its eyes were slit thinner than she though was possible, and its teeth suddenly appeared from nowhere, sharper than her finely edged axe. It was, without a doubt, the most terrifying thing she had ever seen. Her ears were bombarded, as a high pitched whine began, rising in volume until it became unbearable. Astrid started to writhe in pain.

Just as she felt she could take no more, the creature fell back down and clamped its jaws around her shoulder. It felt like every vein in her body was filled with searing flames, as all of the Demon's power was focused into her small, fragile frame. She tried to scream, but there was no air in her lungs, and only strangled cough escaped her mouth. What happened next was unholy, unnatural, and over so fast that she would barely be able to remember it.

She felt muscles twist and spasm uncontrollably as her insides twisted and warping. The dragon was still biting down hard, even as her shoulders began to broaden beyond all human proportions. There was a sickening crunch as her torso stretched and legs became thick and broad. Her clothes strained and ripped as she changed, leaving her bare and exposed to the still glowing monster. Boney stubs shot out from her back, dark skin flapping loosely from each one as they pushed their way out.

Lights flashed in her eyes as pain racked a body that was no longer her own. A strangled moan escaped her inhuman throat as the Night Fury's power flowed through her, morphing and twisting her form in a likeness of its own. Her spine cracked as a thin tail pushed its way out of her rear, thickening even as it grew. Her skin became hard, and began to peel off in flakes as a coat of black scales pushed out from underneath. Her limbs seized up, as her hands swelled to the size of stubby paws. The Night Fury finally released its hold as Astrid's head deformed, her skull flattening as her face pushed out into a dragon's snout.

With these changes, she passed out, an intense burning in her heart and her head. For the last time the Viking girl let her eyes slide shut.


	2. Chapter 2

I own sod all. Sucks doesn't it?

 **A slightly updated version. I have deliberately tried to make this different from other transformation fics, so expect it to go off rails. Let me know what you think.**

* * *

Darkness. Darkness and pain. She tried moving, she tried breathing, but to no avail. She was trapped inside her head, utterly powerless. All she could feel was burning, an intense fire that seemed to consume her very thoughts. She could feel her mind slipping away - memories, dreams, emotions – all lost forever.

Something was growing within her, filling the vacuum in her head that had been left behind. A warm sense of reassurance, of purpose, of love. There was no explaining where it had come from or why, but she clung to the inner warmth that the feelings provided. Air filled her lungs, her eyes slid open, and for a beautiful second, it all just seemed to make sense.

The air was clean and still when she awoke. She was lying on her front legs splayed out in all directions, as if she had been frozen mid-stretch. She could hear everything, from the rustling of the leaves to the clashing of metal. The scents were vivid, and she gasped as her brain was assaulted with information. She could smell herself and the other, being of the same species their scents had always been similar. There were other dragons too, as well as salt, and smoke, and blood. Lots of blood. There were the humans as well, their scent was very powerful. One had been nearby very recently.

Despite the distance, her keen senses gave her a good idea of how the battle was unfolding beyond the treeline. From the mixture of Viking roars and dragon screams, it sounded like the bipedal beasts were winning. Her eyes blinked open, pupils wide in the dim light. Her mate was standing over her, concern written across his features.

" **Come",** he spoke with a deep, commanding tone that could not be argued with. It radiated power and authority, reminding her of Stoi… Wait, _who_?

She pushed herself up on shaking feet. As much as she tried, she couldn't walk properly, with a pounding headache and gentle swaying. The male leant up against her side, steadying her. She could feel his warmth, the energy radiating from his scales. They stayed that way for a minute, enjoying the sense of comfort and security that it brought them both.

 **"** **We haven't much time, my mate, and you were hurt in your fall"**

 **"** **Yes… I fell…"** stuttered the Night Fury, surprised at her voice. **"My wings, they are weak…"**

She took this opportunity to look around, clouds had rolled in overhead, blocking out the moon and darkening the clearing, but it did not matter. She saw her long, sleek body, and found herself staring at it as if for the first time. She was marvellous, the dark scales blending perfectly with the night, covering and protecting the rippling muscle underneath. She could feel the power within her, flowing through her veins.

Blinking again, she spread her wings tentatively, two black sails that could carry her safely through the sky on the wildest of nights. They felt stiff, sore and heavy, like she had been sleeping on her back all day.

She noticed the male staring at her, his jaw slightly ajar. His eyes ran up and down her body several times, as if to check that she was really there. He watched as she flicked her tail, fanning out her rearmost fins. She couldn't help but smile at the way he gawped at her every movement, as if in a trance. It was not surprising really, it was his duty to defend his mate, and she had just taken a nasty fall.

As she moved, fabric rags slipped off her neck and onto the ground in front of her. A skirt, with iron spikes carefully sewn in at regular intervals. She frowned at the ripped clothing, such a waste, it had been a gift from her father after all, along with her uncle's axe…

She felt suddenly sick.

 **"** **We should leave, NOW!"** Her slit eyes were scanning the forest. The scent of the human was back again, even more powerful this time. She couldn't say why, but felt convinced that this was a terrible, evil, wrong place to be.

 **"** **I agree"**

She leapt after the male, the muscles in her back burning as she laboured to gain altitude. Despite a lifetime of experience, it was unusually difficult to stay level and not worry about falling. _'It must be because of my fall'_ she reasoned. As the wind whipped around her, she felt refreshed, as if she had just awoken from a long nightmare. They could both feel an instinctive pull, a sudden and desperate need to fly back to the nest with the others. She could be safe there, hunt and raise her young in peace. Vikings would never reach her there.

At that thought, they pulled out above the Viking nest. The raid was coming to an end, and by the looks of it, it had not been a success. There were bodies everywhere, perhaps a full third of their flight had been killed or trapped by the monsters. Her only conciliation was that they had killed at least as many Vikings.

The dragons all took flight together as they felt the collective pull, breaking off their individual battles to help haul the kill back to the Mother. The Mother. She would be happy with this season's harvest at least, especially before winter came upon them, when the flock would be forced to spend hours breaking through the tough ice to get at the fish beneath.

She started to turn back and follow her mate, but a single Viking caught her eye. It was a female, dressed in a similar spiked shirt to the one from the clearing. It was standing on the top of the cliff, she was screaming the same phrase over and over.

"..ASTRID… ASTRID…ASTRID…"

*Snap*

* * *

Suddenly, she fell.

"Did anybody see that?"

The boy shouted triumphantly to the empty fields. Of course no one had. No one was ever watching Hiccup when it actually mattered. It was at that point that he realised that the bola thrower he designed apparently had an unfortunate habit of destroying itself. The same tight sinews that had hurled the bola across the sky had shattered the wooden frame. It was just Hiccup's luck that the only time it had ever worked successfully, his bola-thrower was reduced to firewood.

But for a second, none of it mattered. He had actually hit it! The one dragon that no one had ever even seen. Admittedly, he hadn't really seen it either, but that was a minor detail.

He could already see his life getting infinitely better. Everyone would be in awe of him now, no more bullying, no more the 'Worst Viking Berk has ever seen'. His father would finally be pround. Hel, maybe even Astrid would notice him for once. The possibilities were endless, and he had done it all himself

He practically skipped back to the village, oblivious to the chaos and destruction around him. The first light of dawn was obscured by a blanket of thick smoke. Most of the villagers were trying to put out the fires, or dragging away the bodies of the dragons. The Viking corpses were already gone, but the smell was not.

He was looking for his father, and soon found him, kneeling down with Vara and Angarr, her husband. Vara was crying, something was deeply wrong, Vara never cried. Hiccup stopped, noticing for the first time how badly the village had suffered. Perhaps a full third of the buildings were completely gone, and well over half had been damaged. The village would recover eventually, but even for Berk it was a high price to pay for a single night's raiding. He knelt down, rubbing the soot from his eyes. As his hand came away black, he felt suddenly sick. Hiccup realised just how close he had come to being killed, running around in the open like an idiot.

He picked himself up and carried on, determined to bring his father the good news. It would be welcome amidst the misery that had seemingly gripped the Island. He was about to approach the man, but seeing the state of Vara, he thought better of it. He leaned on the charred walls of Bucket's house, trying to hear what his father was saying.

"I see. Well, it is all we can expect from the soulless animals. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Seeing his son, Stoick the Vast stood up to reveal his, well… vastness. Hiccup was used to his father towering over him, just as he was used to trying to impress him. This time, he hoped that it would work. His father walked right up to him, wearing look of mild annoyance over tired eyes.

"Hey Dad, you are not going to believe this, but whilst everyone was over here, I was out by the fields, not that I was running or anything, actually the opposite, I was trying to shoot at a dragon with the bola machine which I made to give me extra range because…"

"HICCUP" Stoick shouted, cutting the rant short. "If you have something to say, say it. I don't have much time, and I've just heard that the night fury carried Astrid off to its nest. The family is heartbroken, and I need to organise the funerals for a dozen more warriors before sundown, so for Odin's sake SPIT IT OUT"

The outburst had a physical impact on Hiccup, he rocked back into the weakened wall, causing it, and the rest of the house, to collapse.

Everything Hiccup was about to say died in his mouth. His father looked at him with utter contempt, no doubt wishing it had been him who had been carried off, and not Astrid. Wait, Astrid was gone?

"I'm… I didn't… I… sorry" Hiccup turned and ran back to the house, he didn't want anyone to see the tears that were already staining his shirt.

The funeral was a sad affair. The only possession they had to represent Astrid was her uncle's axe. It took pride of place in the middle of the small boat that had been set adrift. It, along with many others floated out to sea, the current carrying the flotilla towards horizon. The light was dying, as the brief pink hue of evening became the familiar black of night. Hiccup tried his best to stay stoic throughout the ceremony, but as the archers prepared to set the boats aflame, he had to choke back tears.

He found himself glancing at the Hofferson family. There was a small but noticeable space between them and the other mourners. Nobody wanted to spark Angarr's legendary temper, especially at a time like this. Vara was no longer crying, but her eyes were an angry red and shone with moisture. She was trying to comfort her two small boys, who were staring out to sea aimlessly. They had yet to fully realise that their sister was never coming back.

Angarr drew an arrow from his quiver. It had been wrapped in rags and soaked in oil especially for the funeral. With a solemn order from Stoick, he took three paces forward and lit the arrow from a waiting fire. He drew his bow to its full length, eyeing a nearby flag to take account of the wind. At a word from the chief, hundreds of arrows were loosed with a soft thwack, enough to ensure that every boat was set ablaze.

A cascade of flickering candles flew into the night sky, mingling with the stars before they plunged downwards. As they struck the ships, they burst into flames. Angarr waited a second longer before he shot the arrow. His was the last to take flight, and Hiccup watched as it sailed through the air. The man had already turned and was walking back to the village when it finally landed, setting alight what was left of his daughter.

As he strode back, Hiccup caught his eye. He would always remember the look that Angarr gave him; a mix of blind anger, utter disgust and terrible sadness. His daughter had meant the world to him, and there wasn't even a body to dedicate to the gods. As the rest of the procession started to filter back, Hiccup stood still, and soon found himself alone. He forced himself to look out across the ocean once more, and watch as the fires became pinpricks of light in the distance.

 _'_ _She's gone'_ he thought. _'No wait, let's not try and sugar-coat this, she's dead. Dead. Nobody will ever see her again.'_ The boats were disappearing over the horizon now. It was unbelievable that she was gone. She was one of the best fighters in the village, and she hadn't even gone through dragon training yet. He blinked back fresh tears. Hiccup was slightly older than Astrid, it could just as easily have been him. The gods were cruel, it would have been much simpler for everyone if it was. Astrid had been the best of her generation. She had always seemed totally invincible to Hiccup, and unapproachable. He had never told her how he felt, and now she was dead.

' _And there I was, selfishly trying to brag about shooting down the Night fury…'_ Hiccup suddenly perked up. His keen mind began to make connections.

 _'_ _But if the night fury carried off Astrid…'_

Shooting down a Night Fury was heroic, but bringing somebody back from the dead. Now that was the stuff of legend.

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

I Just had DreamWorks and Cressida Cowell on the phone. Turns out they've given me the rights to nothing.

 **So here it is, chapter 3. Now that we have cross species interaction I think its important we distinguish** "Normal Speech", **"Dragon speech", and** _'thoughts'_ **.**

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At first Astrid thought she was blind. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and as much as she tried, she just couldn't ease them open. She could feel a gentle breeze, and the birds were singing freely. That meant she outside, probably in the forest, not a good place to be waking up.

Panic slowly began to spread and her heart rate increased. There was a deep throbbing inside her head, each beat of her quickening heart brought another shot of pain through her skull. Concentrating, she could feel an acute stinging in the centre of her forehead.

Blood, she could smell lots of blood.

There was a large, open wound on her head, she could feel where the skin had been cut away. Still, at least she would get a cool scar out of it. She began to calm down as she realised that her eyes were probably glued shut from dried blood. That would make sense, head wounds bled a lot. She tried to lift her arms to clean it off.

Except she no longer had arms

Memories of the night before came flooding back, and Astrid could remember every detail of her horrific transformation. Panicking again, she started to thrash wildly against her rope restraints, an uncoordinated mess in an unfamiliar body. Forcing her eyes open, she let out an inhuman moan as she was met with the sight of scales. Row upon row of hideous black scales, her scales. She tried to scream.

 **"AHH, AHHHH, AAHHHGH, HELP ME, HELP ME PLEASE"** , but to her horror, all she could hear was a Dragon's screech.

The blood was in her eyes now, and they started to water uncontrollably. To an onlooker, it would looked like the mighty beast had broken down in tears. Half blind, she screamed louder, and fought against the rope with every muscle she had. It dug painfully into her new, deformed body as she twisted and writhed around on the floor. The more she moved, the tighter the rope got. She stopped for a second as she felt a thick section of rope pressing firmly against her scaled windpipe.

Astrid made the decision without hesitation, she would end it all rather than live through this hell. She was an abomination, a Demon, a Night Fury. She was her own worst enemy. It was time to end this satanic nightmare. If she was to die, it would be on _her_ terms, even if that meant choking to death. She would tighten the rope and strangle herself as quickly as possible.

Closing her eyes, she whispered a prayer for her soul and for her family. She stammered as she did so. Astrid had seen death rites being performed on the battlefield, but she never imagined she would have to administer them alone, for herself. Mentally, she tried to prepare herself to take her own life. Imagining the pain, the panic and the darkness, she began to tremble. She took a deep breath, savouring the taste of the air one last time. She was hit by a wave of scents and smells. The forest, trees, flowers, animals, people, salt and blood. It was sickening. It took her a moment to realise that, as a dragon, she must have inherited a superior sense of smell.

The thought brought her no comfort, and she threw herself against her restraints before she could change her mind. As she pushed and pulled, and the rope got tighter around her throat. She let out an involuntary, strangled cry as her air supply was squeezed out of existence.

Her legs were straining against the other side of the bola, tightening the rope around her thick, draconic neck. Her tail began to twitch and spasm, her body protesting the punishment, but she held firm. She was beginning to suffocate.

Astrid pushed the thought of air to the back of her mind, instead focusing on the pain, and her hatred for dragons. All her life they had raided and attacked her village, her family. She had seen loved ones die at their claws. She was not about to become one.

As her eyes closed once again she thought of everything she had done in her life, how hard she had tried to make the Hofferson's proud. She would honour them one last time, by getting rid of one more devil. She could only hope that the doors to Valhalla were still open.

"Oh the God's hate me" Hiccup mused as he trod along the path for what must have been the third time that day.

"Some people lose a cup or a knife, but I manage to lose an _entire dragon_ ". He scribbled angrily over the map he had spent most of last night making. The sun's rays flickered as a gentle breeze blew across the tree tops. It was past noon and he was no closer to finding the Night Fury or Astrid. Hiccup wasn't an idiot. He knew that the chances of Astrid still being alive were next to nothing, but he had lightened up considerably since the funeral. It was funny what a gentle walk through the forest could do for his mood. At least he wouldn't have to help rebuild the village, not that he was any help. Loki must have had a field day with Hiccup, as it seemed the only thing that he was truly talented at was needless property destruction.

"Maybe that's why Dad never let me become a small-home-repair Viking…"

Hiccup had no illusions that he would have to become a warrior. With Astrid out of the picture, he would be forced into dragon training, even if just to make up the numbers. Being the son of one of the greatest dragon slayers in Berk's history was just something else he could bring to the table. Or just another way to disappoint everyone he knew.

Speaking of dragon slaying, Hiccup had brought his trusted knife to finish the creature if he found it. The blade caught the sun as he slid it out of the sheath. Turning it over in his hands, he couldn't help but marvel at the fine engravings running down from the tip to the handle. There were only a few, (the blade was a pitiful length), but they were all beautiful. It was his first decorative work without Gobber's help, and he was so proud. Two long, thin serpents wrapped around each other up the length of the metal, each individual scale lovingly etched into the dragons' hide. No matter what his Dad said, Hiccup still considered it one of his greatest achievements. He did have plans to give it to Astrid one day, but that turned out well…

"Hiccup, you are so talented…" he murmured to himself, right as he walked headlong into a low hanging branch.

Looking up, he saw that the tree had been split in the middle, like somebody had scored a direct hit with a catapult. It wasn't natural, he was certain. The broken pine lead to a long trench that ran down a steep slope. Whatever had torn through the forest was big, like 'dragon sized' big.

Hiccup's breathing quickened. He climbed down the slope, careful to avoid falling and sliding straight into what could be the very irate, fire breathing offspring of death itself. He moved as silently as he could, his years of avoiding perpetual bullying finally seemed to be paying off, as he reached the rock at the bottom of the hill undetected.

He risked a glance over the top, and quickly ducked again when his eyes caught the sleek black scales. He pressed his back up against the rock and squeezed his eyes shut. He waited, frozen still for a full minute of pained silence before he looked again.

The dragon was lying, still as death at the edge of a small crater where it had landed, and it had landed hard. Its head was rested on a blood soaked rock, most likely the cause of the injury to the Night Fury's forehead, although the thick scab was almost indistinguishable from the scales. The bola was wrapped tight around its wings and legs, and also its throat. Hiccup looked on with moderate disgust. He hoped that it had died quickly, and hadn't choked itself slowly, with no hope of escape.

Was it dead? He supposed he would have to check. But then again, what if it woke up and broke out of the bola?

 _'Impossible_ ' thought Hiccup, ' _I designed it myself'._

"Yes" he whispered to himself. "I did this…"

Astrid awoke with a small moan. There were no illusions this time. She was not in Valhalla, but she was not dead either. She was trapped in a Night Fury's body, which was trapped in a bola somewhere in the forest. After she passed out, she'd stopped struggling and the ropes must have loosened up enough for her to breathe.

 _'Stupid girl, can't even kill yourself right.'_

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tiny gasp and a warm hand on her leg. She opened her eyes, taking a second to adjust to the brightness.

 **"Hiccup?"** she rumbled.

The boy visibly flinched at the sound, and she could clearly see the horror written across his face as her eyes locked with his. She felt oddly relieved, at least now she was certain to die. She could only ever be a danger for her village from now on - that much she knew. She could still remember how she felt the night before, how she behaved, like a _dragon._ In a way, it was probably best for everyone that the chief's son would be the one to claim the glory. Maybe he could make something out of this mess. Hiccup raised the knife.

"I'll kill you dragon. I'm… I'm gonna cut out your heart, and bring it to my father!" he tried to yell.

 **"Yes, please, do it now!"** She knew that Hiccup wouldn't understand, but it comforted her to say it. It felt like she was confronting death, like a warrior, like her uncle used to tell her.

"I'm a Viking". He raised the knife high above his head, "I AM A VIKING!"

 **"Just kill me, please… quickly… now"** , she pleaded, trying to end the nightmare as soon as she could. Her eyes shut as she slumped back in defeat. She held her breath and waited for the deadly blow.

It never came. She heard him mutter something like "I did this", before the restrictive bola came undone. Opening her eyes, she saw the boy sawing through the rope with the serrated edge of the knife.

 **"No No NO NO!"** she screeched and shot forwards, a mixture of rage and half-forgotten instincts fuelling her movements. She pinned down the toothpick of a boy with a massive black claw.

 **"Stupid boy. You were supposed to kill me!"** She stared him directly in the eye, her grip tightening around his thin, fragile throat. For a second her anger got the better of her. Here was everything he could ever want, tied up and presented to him. He would finally be respected by everyone in the village. All he had to do was plunge the knife into her heart.

He was a coward, a failure. The one thing in his miserable life that he _needed_ to do, and he had backed out. She could see why Stoick was so disappointed in him. He was struggling to breathe now. She didn't care that he was the son of the chief, he had denied her a rightful place in the halls of her ancestors, and he would pay.

He was clearly terrified, it was a wonder that he hadn't fainted yet. She's seen him faint at less before, the weakling. She stared long and hard into his deep green eyes. She could see the fear, she could smell the fear. Oh gods, since when could she _smell_ fear? She could not kill him, that would make her no better than one of the beasts. For a moment, her grip loosened.

 **"As far as you're concerned, I'm a wild Night Fury. Are you trying to get** ** _yourself_** **killed?"**

Whatever his motives were, the boy was a fool, but she had an idea. If she could scare him away, he would go back to Berk and get help, and she could finally die a warrior's death. It was all she could do. A real dragon would never just let him walk away.

She reared back, and slammed her paws down right by his head. She opened her mouth and vented all of her anger and frustration into the loudest roar she had ever heard.

The trees shook as birds took off in flight. Every creature for miles around became suddenly and immediately silent, as they recognised the danger from the world's most deadly predator. Astrid couldn't believe it. She had roared like an animal, a _dragon_. For a second she had thought about… she almost killed him. Hiccup, the goofy son of their heroic chief. She was becoming one of them, a beast. She deserved to be mounted on the wall as a decoration. She began to shake.

 **"I'm… I didn't… I… I'm so sorry"**

Before Hiccup recovered from his daze, she turned and fled through the undergrowth, making a distinct track for Hiccup to follow. She seemed to have more control of her legs as she stumbled through the forest, tears streaming down her horrifying scaled face. To think that she had been so pretty before she was twisted into a lizard freak. She cursed whichever sadistic God was responsible. Probably Loki, nobody else had the imagination.

Blindly crashing though bushes, she didn't realise what was up ahead until she met a sheer drop. Her momentum was too great, there was no way she could stop in time. She barrelled over the edge, a sick feeling in her stomach as she began to fall. Eyes shut tight, her wings instinctively tried to keep her airborne, but she immediately spiralled out of control and plunged straight into an ice cold lake.

The cold bit into her, sending her into shock. Her unfamiliar muscles seized involuntarily as she was dragged into colder and colder water. The surface drifted further and further away, her limbs felt like iron weights. Reeds brushed against her scales as she neared the bottom. Her wings hung uselessly, suspended in the water. She cracked open an eyelid. Thin rays of light cut through the lake at irregular intervals. She could clearly make out a shoal small fish with her draconic vision, busily flitting around the shallows, oblivious to the enormous body that had invaded their domain. For a second, she was calm.

Her shaking came to a stop, and after a minute floating aimlessly, she let go of her body. She imagined the cold water sucking the life out of her wretched body. She smiled inwardly, imagining the gates to the afterlife sliding open for her. An eerie sense of complete relaxation took hold. Scenes from her life twisted together and played through her mind, not in a flash, but in a silent, colourless procession. She saw her uncle, her father, her mother, the chief, the whole tribe, all gathered together in the great hall, toasting to her sacrifice with proud, tearful faces. Memories and dreams bled into each other. She was just child running through the village as the first of many winter storms blew in from the North. There was the danger and excitement, but also the warmth of the family hearth and her mother. It was time for her to go home.

She was dimly aware of her mind slowing and drifting away with no air to breathe, but she could not bring herself to care. Retreating into her dreams, she surrendered her body to the water. Astrid the shield maiden was ready to die.

But Astrid the dragon, was not.

From deep within her spirit, a screaming, feral force took control of her body. A voice of survival that refused to give in; an ancient instinct whose raw will to survive had been keeping creatures fighting for life since time immemorial. Snapping back to consciousness, Astrid was barely in control, and her body acted as if possessed. She let out an involuntary screech as her brain realised the air had run out. Folding her wings, she powered upwards, legs burning. The instinctive need to breathe had gifted her the ability to swim, and overwritten all other thoughts. Her sense of honour forgotten, she desperately fought towards the surface. Even in her frenzied state, her strength was failing. If she did not get out soon, she would surely drown.

The icy lake mocked her efforts, and her body felt heavier with each passing second. She was no closer to salvation. She was out of air, out of energy and out of time. The surface was just too far away. The barrier between life and death seemed impossibly high, and she was on the wrong side.

 **"I AM NOT DYING"** she roared, not caring for the water that entered her mouth and lungs. Her vision went red, and she lost control as every facet of her being was focused on reaching the light above her.

She broke through the surface with a huge gasp, coughing up water. With the last of her energy, she kicked hard towards the edge of the lake.

Using her claws, she dragged herself onto the shore, before collapsed a heap, coughing long and hard, and eventually tasting blood. An impossible amount of water flooded out of her lungs before her first, stinging breath. Her body began to hyperventilate, desperately trying to keep itself alive. Unable to move, she was totally overcome by cold, pain and exhaustion. It felt as if the entire dragon body was screaming in pain at her as she lay on the loose rocks by the shore. But for the first time since her transformation she felt a different emotion cutting through her exhausted mind, coursing through her veins and clouding her thoughts.

Brave Astrid Hofferson, the dragon slaying protégé, was paralysed by fear.

 **(News just in: the review button is actually a portal to Narnia!)**


	4. Chapter 4

I don't own the 'How to train Your Dragon' franchise. That would be Doctor evil in his volcano lair. I heard he bought it for _one million_ dollars...

 **'Ello 'ello 'ello. Well this is just great. I'm still alive and posting. I'm posting this fairly late in my country, because I've realised that my main reader base is in the US (except for that one guy in Switzerland, you rock!). I do read all the reviews, and they do make me quite the happy munchkin. Sometimes I even have a chuckle. I am partial to a good chuckle in the evening, so thank you kindly.**

 **Anyway, this chapter is a bit Hiccuppy, so bear with me guvnor. I read somewhere that character development is kinda important , so I just threw a load in.**

 **Anyway, Chapter 4...**

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Hiccup eased the door open as quietly as he could. If his father was up, he didn't really want to talk to him. Hiccup had spent the last few hours unconscious in the middle of the forest with the world's deadliest dragon roaming around at will, and he was convinced that he had just made the biggest mistake of his short life.

He had made poor choices before, but they were normally part of a bigger scheme to try and win the respect of the village, his father, and maybe Astrid. Most of the time he was just a nuisance, an annoying, helpless nuisance but a nuisance nonetheless. This time, however, it was fairly certain that he would be killed, or at the very least exiled, if anyone found out that he had set free the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself.

He had practised trying to explain it to his Dad on the way back from the forest.

 _"_ _Don't we have enough dragon-slaying Vikings? What about bread-making Vikings, or even good old blacksmithing Vikings…"_

He sighed. There was no chance that his father would forgive him. The Night Fury was just too dangerous. It had destroyed too many catapults over the years, and too many families. He thought about the Hofferson's. How lost and distraught they had looked at the funeral. How could he possibly justify freeing the devil that had ripped that household apart. Vara had not slept since her daughter had been carried, off, screaming and very much alive…

He hadn't found Astrid either, and that was probably what was really upsetting him. Not only did he put the village in grave danger, he had also missed a chance to take revenge on the beast that had almost certainly killed his girlfriend-to-be. Yet he just wasn't … able, to kill it.

It was the eyes that he remembered the clearest. They were impossibly big, and yet so precise, so _intelligent_. It had wanted to kill him - that much was clear. But then, they seemed to soften, the pupils widened in something akin to sorrow. Then it had roared and run off. From what he could remember before he passed out, it had been running really badly. It was probably sick…

"Or injured", he said out loud, remembering who had shot the wretched thing down.

"Hiccup"

Stoick had noticed his son's arrival. He turned to face the boy. Hiccup took a step further into the house. He still couldn't meet his father's eyes. _'Oh well'_ , thought Hiccup. _'Might as well get this over with'_.

"Dad, I need to talk to you"

"I need to talk to you too son…" There was an awkward silence. Neither really knew how to talk to the other. It had happened so little over the years, it should have been no surprise that they had communication issues.

"Son, I just wanted you to know, that whatever happens… I'll always… I'll always be …"

"Dad, it's okay, I understand." Hiccup knew that Stoick loved him. He also knew that he had serious issues when it came to displaying that love.

"No Hiccup, it's not." He sat down heavily, and stared into the fire, a deep sigh escaping his throat. Hiccup sat down opposite, just outside Stoick's peripheral vision. Stoick cleared his throat.

"Ever since Astrid… Well. Went the way of your mother…" For a second, pain flashed across his face. Hiccup rarely heard his father speak about Valka. Those conversations always ended in painful memories, which Hiccup could barely remember and Stoick had tried to forget.

"I'm going on another hunt for the nest, and I was just think that it's important you start dragon training." Stoick turned to look at his son. Hiccup was quick to protest.

"Wait, no, Dad, I really don't think that's a good idea. You see, I can't really… I can't kill dragons."

"Hiccup this is serious. You know the raids have been getting worse. There are a shortage of trainees this year, for the good of Berk you need to learn. Look, I've spoken with Gobber and I've been thinking-"

"- You shouldn't be thinking Dad, you know how dangerous it is"

"HICCUP"

Stoick silenced the boy with a single word. He stood up and placed his hands on Hiccup's shoulders. They barely fit. He towered over the small boy, blocking out the light from the fire.

But then he went down on one knee, so they could look each other in the eye. Hiccup could see moisture in his father's eyes. If it had not been the most powerful and heroic chief that Berk had ever seen, he could have sworn that he was on the edge of tears.

"I won't always be there to protect you son. I can't risk the Dragons… I won't be able to…"

He was worried now. This was very unlike his father. Stuttering was what _he_ did.

"Hiccup, you are all I have. I can't lose you as well."

His protests died in his throat as he suddenly realised why they were having this conversation. It all made sense. The death of Astrid, the raids getting worse, talking to Gobber. His father wanted his son to be able to protect himself. He might not have been perfectly suited to it, but dragon training was the best way for Hiccup to learn how not to die instantly when confronted with anything bigger than a terror. Honestly, it was the least that Hiccup could do. He was a walking disaster after all, and he felt acutely guilty after the day's events. Against his better judgement, Hiccup agreed.

"All right Dad, I'll do the stupid training"

Stoick immediately lightened up, his booming laugh actually caused the room to shake. He gave Hiccup a tremendous slap on the back, almost knocking him straight into the wall.

"That's my Boy!"

Hiccup couldn't help but grin. There was something so endearing about seeing his father so happy. It happened so rarely after all. The redhead was rummaging around a chest, and brought out a single bladed battle-axe that was at least at tall as Hiccup. Judging by the smooth dark, well maintained wood, it was probably a lot older than Hiccup as well. Stoick had been planning this day for a long time.

"You'll need this"

Hiccup could barely support his own bodyweight, let alone a decently sized hatchet. His legs shook and nearly buckled under the weight of the weapon. His father pushed past him and opened the door. Shouldering a sack full of weapons, he turned to say goodbye to his only son.

"Goodbye son. Train hard. I'll be back. Probably."

Hiccup half placed, half dropped the axe on the table. He almost went to hug the man, but then thought better of it.

"And I'll be here… maybe"

* * *

Hiccup stumbled into the forge, exhausted. His clothes were ripped and his hair was singed. He could have sworn that his eye brows were thicker before that encounter with the Terrible Terror.

Dragon training had been brutal. He had almost died, three times! (Although one of those was Ruffnut's fault, mainly). All had been going well until Gobber revealed his 'Learning on the Job' approach. Hiccup shouldn't have been surprised. He had spent years 'Learning on the Job' in the forge. It was lucky that the only major injury he had was a third degree burn on his shoulder, which had since healed into a scar shaped amusingly like Gobber's brush-hand.

He started to sharpen a broadsword on the whetstone, the sparks briefly lighting up the fairly dim interior of the room. That was, until his mentor stoked up the fire, briefly setting fire to his moustache.

"I'm impressed Hiccup. Your first day of real training and you're not even crippled for life. I could have sworn that Gronckle was gonna at least disfigure you, what with the way you cowered helplessly in the corner for five hours."

"Thank you, for summing that up"

Hiccup knew that Gobber was just teasing him. After all, he had basically been a second father, raising Hiccup when his real Dad was too busy, which was most of the time. Gobber, although he would never admit it in public, was very fond of the boy. Anyway, it was better than talking to any of the other trainees, at least. The twins would just try and find a new, inventive way to kill him, probably using fire. Fishlegs would just talk endlessly about statistics. Snoutlout would probably use him as caber toss and Astrid…

"Well you're movement is sluggish and you're weapons handling is horrific, but apart from that you're doing better than I thought you would."

Gobber began to beat a twisted blade back into shape, not even breaking a sweat. Hiccup strained to lift another basket full of arrow shafts onto their storage shelf. Archery wasn't used much against the dragons. It worked well against invading Viking neighbours, but the Dragon's hides were always too tough and they moved to fast. But if someone could invent a giant bow, and maybe some arrows to match…

"Focus Hiccup! You're iron's almost hot enough."

"Right, on it!"

As he was working the metal, Hiccup couldn't help but think about the Night Fury that he let go. He still couldn't work out exactly why it had let him live. Maybe he was too thin and weak? Too full of bones? That wouldn't make any sense. Dragon's normally ate their prey whole, didn't they? It occurred to Hiccup that he had never actually seen a dragon eat any of the food it hauled in each raid. Sure the captured dragons in the ring normally ate fish, but who's to say that's what they normally ate. It could be a diet of nothing but eels for all he knew.

Maybe the dragon had spared him because it thought, like Gobber had said, that he was sick or insane. Again, it made no sense. It had Hiccup pinned down with a claw around his throat. It would have been easy just to cut, crush, or bite into his fragile little neck. A potential threat would have been removed with essentially zero effort.

Perhaps dragons had some sense of honour, or at least recognised the concept of gratitude. He had, after all, spared the beast when he could easily have cut out its heart.

But then there were the _eyes_. He could still remember them vividly. They were just so absorbing. He could get lost for hours studying their deep green gaze. They had seemed so familiar, so intelligent, so _understanding_.

And then there was the way it had run off moaning into the forest, apparently with even less coordination than he had. Everything about it had just seemed wrong. So un-dragon like. It all just seemed so odd. The dragon should have killed him, but for whatever reason, it didn't and he was determined to find out why he was still alive. Hiccup was sure about one thing. He was going to go back and find it.

"Say, Gobber. Has anyone ever tried to, I don't know, _study_ a dragon"

"Many have tried son, but most end up studying the dragon's insides if you know what I mean. Bork the Bold did a pretty comprehensive job in the old 'Book of Dragons'. Have I ever told you his story? He was an ancestor of mine, used to be called 'Bork the very very…'"

"I know Gobber, you've told me this before. More than once. Actually about eight times, but what I really want to know is…"

Hiccup took a deep breath, and tried to explain.

"I was just wondering, if it was at all possible that… I don't know. How much do we really know about dragons? I mean, are they intelligent? Do they understand us? Are they capable of learning new things? There's just so much we don't know about them. I mean, maybe if we tried to understand them better we could-"

"HICCUP". Gobber silenced him with a swish of his hammer. Gobber leaned right up close to Hiccup, so close that he could smell the oil he used on his moustache.

"There is only one thing you need to know about dragons. They always, _always_ … go for the kill."

 **Everytime you click the 'Review button', a star is created from children's laughter (true story).**


	5. Chapter 5

The 'How to train your Dragon' franchise belongs solely to Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie from _Whose line is it anyway_. I know right. I was surprised as well.

 **So here it is, time for another wonderful update to our wonderful story. Read on, my minions, for the plot thickens with every page...**

* * *

Astrid pushed deeper into the rocky cave, flattening her body to fit into the small opening. The rain beat mercilessly against the cliff face opposite, but she was just about covered up on her side. Flashes of lightning ruined her night vision. They bathed the cove in light for an instant, each image slightly different as the wind tugged at the trees and whipped up the lake. To her sensitive ears, the thunder felt like Thor himself was hammering on an anvil inches from her head.

She curled up tighter, into a ball. Hiding her head under a wing, she screwed up her eyes and pressed her ear flaps firmly against her skull. Even with the lightning, she was nigh on invisible. There was something strangely comforting about hiding from the world. She could almost pretend that her problems didn't exist. She sighed, sleep would not come easily this evening.

The ground wasn't uncomfortable, it just felt _wrong_. It was distressing that an opening at the bottom of a sheer rock face could be as warm and inviting as her woollen bed back home.

 _'Home',_ she thought. _'Just another thing I can never have again'_.

She would have cried, had her eyes not been raw from crying for hours earlier. To say that it had been the worst day of her life was an understatement. She had slept off the immediate exhaustion from her near death experience, waking up to her painful reality just before the storm rolled in. She had sat under a tree for hours, staring at puddle in the ground. She couldn't bring herself to look into the lake. Not after what had happened.

She had seen her new face for the first time. Hairless and smooth, each scale blending into the next to create an armoured hide that only a powerful sword thrust could penetrate. They were a deep black, with perhaps a hint of dark blue, slightly more on the underside. It was the perfect cover for a night attack. On a moonless night there was nothing on earth that would be able to detect her. She had what could be described as a face. Two eyes, a nose and a mouth, but that was where the similarities with her old appearance ended.

Her head was flatter, and shaped like a rough triangle. At the corners, her ears protruded outwards, although they were drooping down in depression. Her snout, if you could call it that, wrinkled every time she sniffed, and her pupils were huge, round, puddles of sadness.

As she sat and stared at her hideous reflection she had been overwhelmed by appalling misery. The undeniable truth of her situation had begun to sink in as she had time to fully consider all the connotations of her predicament. A new life had been thrust upon her, out of the blue, and she had undergone changes more drastic and unnatural than anyone before her. Her body, her human form, the very essence of her being had been destroyed and replaced by a demon. There was no place for her in this world, and yet there she was. Her new body was as real as the drooping tree she had been sat under, until the lashing rain drove her into cover.

Astrid shifted her bodyweight, and tried to rest her head on one of her paws, whilst keeping it out of the biting wind. She was still getting used to being so damn _big_. The cave could have comfortably housed her and all her friends before, but now it was practically overflowing with dragon. But she could never see her friends again, or her family for that matter. She would have blinked back tears if there were any left. In her mind's eye she saw her father embrace her old form and felt his soft warmth on her skin. She imagined what that would look like now. Her father's hand would be met with cold scales, as smooth and inviting as the broken rocky walls of her cave.

It was as if her entire life up to that point had been wasted, unfairly torn away and tossed to the wind. She shuddered at a vision of her future life; scrambling around like a lizard, desperately searching for food, panicking at the sound of thunder, hiding away in solitude in the dark places of the world, slowly going insane and becoming the feral beast that she truly was. Nobody would ever see her as Astrid the Viking ever again, but only as a dangerous threat to run from or to slaughter. She would almost certainly die brutally and alone.

She made a noise, somewhere between a moan and a sigh. It was long, full of anguish and clearly inhuman. She stopped abruptly. She couldn't bear to hear her new, impossibly low, draconic voice anymore. Forcing herself off this path of dark thoughts, she let the rhythmic drumming of the rain lull her into a troubled state of rest as she drifted away from the future and back into the past.

Astrid thought back to the transformation. She had been a dragon back then. A full, instinct driven creature of the wild. It made her feel sick, how she had taken in the scents of the forest, and swivelled her ears to check for danger. How she had pandered to that male, called him her mate. Oh gods, her _mate_.

It was clear now why she had been transformed. Astrid wasn't stupid, and had worked out the most likely explanation for what had happened - aside from being cursed by the gods, obviously. There had only ever been one Night Fury. They were rare, so it wasn't ridiculous to assume that he couldn't find another. That male had transformed her so she could be his mate, and have little dragon hatchlings with her, continue a species that was not her own. It was horrifying.

She didn't know the first thing about the dragons' social structure. Hell, it was only after being transformed that she realised they could talk to each other. But she had been a dragon then, and had thought about returning to the nest, a safe place where they could raise their younglings… Oh _Gods_ …

She almost regretted saving herself from drowning. If there was a risk that she would bring more demons into the world than it might have been better for everyone if she had just died in that lake.

But she hadn't. At the last moment her nerve had gone, and she hadn't felt the same since.

New instincts affected her every decision. She doubted that her walking would be as good as it was if not for their guiding influence. She was able to control her wings and tail without really needing to practise. Not that she would need to soon. Nothing could fly in this storm.

 _Flying_ , now that was something. She hadn't been paying attention at the time, but she had flown. Back when her mind was not her own, flying was as easy as walking. It had seemed so natural to her. Pushing up off the ground, her powerful shoulders burning as she laboured to gain altitude. The clouds, rushing past. Her wings angled to catch the most air possible. Two enormous, jet black sails carrying her anywhere and everywhere….

Crashing. That was what followed. A bola had hit her, full on. Expertly aimed, it had clamped down around her wings and face. She had used her tailfins to angle the fall, but there was no stopping the inevitable crash. She had landed hard, ripping through the treeline, her new weight splintering mature birch trees like kindling. A deep trench, carved out of the soft ground, had slowed her down, but she had still hit her head hard on a boulder.

That was when the spell was broken. It was also the reason she could still feel a throbbing in her forehead whenever her heart rate quickened. Whatever that monster had done to her mind had been undone, at least in part. She could still feel a subconscious pull out to sea, towards the horizon, but it was clear that overall, Astrid the Viking was in control.

 _Was she_? In the lake, something had happened. She had let go of her body, waiting for death, and the next thing she knew she was coughing up water on the shore, exhausted but alive. She had made every conceivable effort to end it all, but she was still in the land of the living. Astrid grimaced as she thought back to the feral force that had propelled her out of the water. As much as her continuing existence pained her, she no longer yearned for death. Somewhere in the murk and cold of the water, she had changed.

The weather was getting worse now, the trees were being bent and twisted beyond recognition. The rain was falling harder, and she could feel the tiny vibrations as each drop slammed angrily into the rocks around her. Looking up, she saw a small, watery landside demolish part of the wall. The last of the summer storms thundered wildly overhead, as if its wailing could stop the seasons altogether. Her drooping tree was thrashing around now, as if it had been driven into a mad frenzy by the swirling winds. She watched transfixed as leaves and branches were torn off, whilst the trunk remained anchored and unmoving.

For the first time the dragon smiled. Despite the changes, at her core she was still the mighty Astrid. Leaves and branches could be ripped away, but her inner strength would not be so easily toppled. She was not ready to die. Not yet. Not until she had tried everything she could to turn back. She would not give up without a fight. She could still bring pride to her family's name. Astrid, the legendary warrior, who had lived through hell and come out stronger.

She curled up again, hugging herself with her wings. Despite the biting cold, she was warm inside. She smiled, closed her eyes, and slipped into a fitful sleep.

She would not go quietly into the darkness. Tomorrow, she would get out of that cave. She would contact her village, find that Night Fury, and force it to change her back. If it didn't, she would just have to teach the race of dragons a lesson that they, and the world, would never forget.

* * *

"Hey, are any of you going to read the book?"

Snotlout looked at Fishlegs as if he had just committed a war crime, not that the son of Spitelout was one to shy away from violence.

"The only thing I'm gonna read are the runes that I carve into my sword, once I kill a dragon. I'll kill it, then I'll carve its name into the sword, and then I'll kill another one, and I'll only stop once I run out of dragons!"

"Or runes, you only know about five Snotlout" Ruffnut smiled viscously as the arrogant boy started to work out that he had just been insulted. Tuffnut sensed weakness, and pushed harder.

"Yeah, and how will you know the names of the dragons you kill? Dragons can't talk, stupid. Even if they could they wouldn't talk to you. I bet I could talk to ten times as many dragons as …"

Tuffnut was silenced by Snotlout's swinging fist, which connected with the smaller boy's fleshy cheek, loosening a few teeth. Snotlout followed up with a head-butt, but his opponent had already ducked and his thick forehead smashed into Tuffnut's helmet. In a flash, they were both wrestling on the table, knocking food, drinks and the Book of Dragons flying. Gobber glanced up from his perch in the far corner of the hall, before returning to his hook, which he was lazily wiping with an ale soaked rag.

"Anyway," said Ruffnut, entirely oblivious to her brother's battle which was slowly rolling across the room behind them. "Reading is for girls and Saxons, I'd sooner use it as a bludgeon, or maybe a shield, or firewood."

Fishlegs was at a loss. He looked to Hiccup for support, but the son of the Chief sat with his face in his palm, slowly shaking his head from side to side.

"But you're a… You're a…"

"I'm a _what_ Fishlegs?" Ruffnut leaned over the table, menacing Fishlegs with a glare. Hiccup quietly slipped away from the table, picking up the book as he went. In the far corner, their hooked mentor finally stood, yawning and cracking his back as he did.

"Right then students! That storms getting worse, you'd better all head home before you're parents start banging on my door."

As he made his way out, the grizzled Viking grabbed Tuffnut by the feet and pulled him along, whilst Snotlout was hoisted up by a hook speared through his trousers. The two boys continued fighting even as they were dragged out of the hall. The fire retreated as the door swung open, and a fierce chill swept across the tables. Hiccup waited, shivering in the shadows, until the last of his classmates had left. The door banged shut behind Ruffnut, leaving him alone.

Hiccup piled a few more logs on the fire and pulled up one of the rickety wooden chairs. It was probably better that he was on his own. He would rather not raise any suspicion when he left the next day to find that dragon. Although his father was gone, the village tended to keep a communal eye on him. More than a decade of fire and explosions had taught them that the hard way. Tilting the book towards the light, Hiccup opened it somewhere in the middle.

"The Terrible Terror… burns, slashes and cuts its victims… dangerous in packs, yada yada yada. Extremely dangerous, kill on sight. Neat."

He turned through the pages on the various different species. All went into great detail, especially when it came to the gruesome methods each dragon used to dispatch their victims. Not only did it say how long it would take a family of 'Murderous Hide-Rippers' to skin a grown Viking alive, but also the amount of pain that said Viking was likely to experience, that sort of thing. Apparently, when it came to dragons, it was the little details that mattered.

"…Extremely dangerous, kill on sight. Bleeds victims, Blinds victims, Boils victims alive."

Hiccup was looking for a specific page. If he was going to go hunting for that Night Fury, he was going to go prepared. Whilst he knew that he wouldn't be able to kill the beast, anything which would keep him alive long enough to get a decent look at it, and maybe even a picture, would be valuable information.

"Extremely dangerous, Kill on sight. Extremely dangerous. Kill on sight. Extremely dangerous…"

He turned over the page.

"…Kill on sight. What a surprise"

There were only a few pages left with any ink in them. The last quarter of the book was left unfinished, in case the good people of Berk were terrorised by and new breeds of hellspawn. Hiccup frowned as he flicked past the last used page and into the empty ones. Was it possible that so little was known about the Night Fury that it didn't even warrant an entry?

"No, no, there has to be more…"

He turned to the very back of the book, and his heart gave a little jump when he found what he was looking for. On the last page, separated from all the others, somebody had scrawled a few choice words about the deadliest dragon known to man. Unlike the others, there was no picture, just an empty space. Fitting, for a dragon that nobody had ever even seen. Well, maybe not _nobody_.

"Night Fury. Speed: Unknown, Size: Unknown". Hiccup frowned. For all the damage it caused and the amount of fear it struck, even in the hearts of the most courageous of Vikings, the Night Fury wasn't even that big. It was bigger than him - that was for sure. But then again everything was bigger than him…

"The unholy offspring of Lightning and Death itself. Oh, so _that's_ where the saying comes from. Never engage this dragon. Your only hope is to hide and pray that it does not find you."

Hiccup closed the book. Bork the Bold might have been a local legend, but his knowledge on Night Furies was severely lacking. Was it that he could never find one, or maybe he just didn't want to? Night Furies were rare, maybe there were so few that it was impossible to conduct a detailed study. Perhaps they only arrived later, when Bork was too old to go adventuring. It was one of the last entries in the book after all.

He went back to the first few pages, the ones with 'General Information' about all dragons. ' _There must be something in here I can use'_.

'Dragon Diets. Dragons have been known to eat all kinds of animal life. Generally speaking, they are carnivores, although some Timberjacks have been known to chew on the bark of the trees that they fell. Most dragons will be satisfied with meat, be it the tender flesh of a child or the tough meat of an aged yak.'

"Well this is interesting. I wonder if I could feed Snotlout to the Night Fury…"

'Fish, however are their favourite food. A large pile of fish can be a good distraction to help flee from or ambush any dragon. Icelandic Cod are especially effective when used in this way. Apparently, Vikings do not taste as good as Haddock, Halibut, Herring, Salmon, Skate or Smoked eels.'

"I wonder how he learned all of this. It can't all be right. Still, if the dragon wants fish, the dragon gets fish."

Hiccup returned the book before heading home. It was pouring with rain, and the occasional flash of lightning out at sea illuminated the empty streets. Distant thunder could be heard rumbling. Hiccup smiled for the first time that day. The storm would likely follow the wind and miss the village. It was instead headed towards the forest and the other side of the island. He struggled back up the small slope leading up to his father's house.

His smile quickly died, however, as the storm wouldn't miss them by _that_ much. The wind still howled around the mountain, hurling fat raindrops against the thick wooden walls. Hiccup struggled to close the door against the wind. He stumbled, soaking, upstairs to his bed, kicking of his leather boots. _'Odin protect anyone caught outside in this weather'_ , he thought before he closed his eyes and drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.

* * *

Astrid awoke to find her lower body submerged in water. During the night, without her realising, the water level had risen significantly, and the water had found its way into her cave. It wasn't surprising really, she had been sleeping at the bottom of the cliff, right next to the lake. She uncurled her body and stepped outside. Each step felt strangely wrong as she shifted her unfamiliar weight forward. Placing each paw carefully, one at a time, she edged forward, splashing through the shallow muddy water. Her hesitant gait brought her out into the open. The sun blinded her for a moment as she passed out of the shadows and into its glare. As it fell on the cove, it rippled in the lake and the rocky walls glistened with dew. Surveying the cove in the daylight, Astrid felt almost giddy. Part of her still firmly believed that none of this was real.

She gave another inhuman moan, this time with pleasure as she stretched out her back and tail. Astrid didn't care, she had conquered her suicidal thoughts from the day before, and now she had a plan and a purpose. She laughed a deep, warbling laugh when she realised how much she must have looked like a cat, back arched and paws outstretched.

Locating the muscles in her back took some time, but eventually she found a way to unfurl her wings. It was the first time she had the chance to look at them. They were thin, like a layer of fabric, and yet they were made from the same scale as the rest of her. She was astonished that they were so big, although her human body didn't exactly have anything to compare them to.

She felt the urge to just start moving, and explore her surroundings. Her slow, deliberate steps brought her to higher ground away from the lake, where the ground was not completely submerged. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she willed her legs to move faster. She was struggling to outrun her human walking pace.

 _'Think Astrid, think…'_

She remembered how her body had saved itself in the lake, how it had suddenly remembered to swim when she let go of her conscious thought.

 _'How about we try a different, less hands-on approach.'_

She smiled inwardly at her own, terrible, pun as she willed her legs forward. Soon enough she was walking slightly faster, her paws having found a natural rhythm. She barked in celebration and excitement. It was all a game, and her new body was the toy.

She took off around the cove with a light trot, somewhere between walking and running. She could scarcely believe she was moving so effortlessly. The grass was sodden, and squelched under her paws. She could smell the fresh rainfall in everything, and the birds were chirping merrily. For once, she was not desperately sad or angry, and just took the opportunity to enjoy what must have been one of the last days of the summer.

After a few laps, she had seen and smelt everything she thought she needed to. With her confidence up, Astrid felt ready to leave the cove. She wasn't exactly sure how to do that, since the rock faces were mostly sheer and far higher than she could possibly jump. She was determined to try anyway. Setting herself up by the wall, with only a small strip of grass below her and the lake stretching out behind, she readied herself to jump. Pushing hard with all four of her legs she threw herself upwards towards the top of the cliff.

She smacked into the wall and fell backwards onto the soft moss, inches away from the water. All she had succeeded in doing was winding herself.

' _Okay, maybe this isn't going to be so simple.'_

Astrid knew deep down what she had to do, but she didn't want to. Her wings gently spread open once again, as she turned to look at them.

 _'I can't fly… I shouldn't. I… I… That's what dragons do.'_

 _'Well you're a dragon now, so you had better deal with it!'_ another, more assertive part of her responded.

Determined, she shuffled around, setting herself up to launch, but stopped when she realised that she had absolutely no idea what she was doing and almost certainly looked like an idiot.

 _'It's just like walking, or swimming. Just do whatever feels right."_

Feeling deeply foolish, she closed her eyes and felt around for some dragon instincts. Sure enough, her haunches lowered, her wings unfurled fully and her hind legs bent themselves low to the ground. She grinned. It felt natural, ready, and above all powerful. She could feel the tension in her muscles, and in her head she saw each of her legs as a coiled spring, like Hiccup used in his inventions and left lying around the armoury.

 _'Let's do this!'_

Facing the rock face, she leapt upwards, her powerful legs propelling her to a massive height. At the same time, her wings beat down, pushing her even higher, and closer to the top. She scrambled madly for the cliff's edge as her wings beat a second time, but something felt wrong.

Her left wing buckled and tilted downwards, completely throwing her off balance. Memories of her fall into the lake were still fresh as she clawed at the rocks. Large chunks of stone came crashing down and rolled into the water as she tried to gain a foothold. But it was not to be. She spun around, falling.

Instinct kicked in and she spread her wings as best she could, eyes firmly shut. She was falling from a much greater height than before. A pocket of air seemed to lift her upwards, and then cushion her in the air. Astrid's eyelids cracked open. She was above the lake, floating on nothing. Keeping her wings as level as she could, she was gliding across the surface and barely staying airborne. Her claws dipped into the water as she made it the short distance across the lake to the other grassy bank.

Landing head over heels, she rolled to an abrupt stop, splashing the shallow water everywhere. Her torso was wrapped up in her wings and her tongue hung out of her mouth. For a second all was still.

With a short roar, Astrid leapt up, exhilarated. Sure she had crashed, but for a second, she was _flying_. Her, Astrid the shield-maiden, flying with her own wings. It was ridiculous. It was amazing. She wanted to do it again. All thoughts turned to repeating her first flight as she bounded back to the rock face, not noticing that she was running quicker than before.

She prepared to jump for a second time, tensing her legs and ensuring that she was evenly balanced. There was no hesitation. She sprung again, careful to make sure that her wings beat down together at exactly the same time. She got even higher up than before, but again she spiralled out of control. This time she fell to the ground directly below her. Her wings flapped wildly, kicking up dust and making great ripples in the lake as she cushioned what could have been another hard landing.

Her elation turned to annoyance after she fell for a fifth time, and landed half in the water of the lake. She was getting tired now. She wasn't hardly flying, just jumping and using her wings. The competitive streak of her previous life shone through. It angered Astrid that she couldn't achieve something as simple as escaping the cove, despite her best efforts. It was doubly maddening, since she would have been able to escape easily had she still been human.

She screwed up her eyes and thought back to night of the transformation. It had seemed so easy then. She was in complete control of her movements that night, soaring just below the clouds, gently adjusting her tailfins to account for the breeze. What was she doing wrong now?

Astrid took a deep breath, and relaxed. So far, trusting her instincts had been the most reliable way to stay alive. Surely they could help her fly. Moving away from the rock face, she let go of all conscious thought. As far as she was concerned, the dragon within her was in control. Focusing on the physical world surrounding her, she hunched up, jumped forward and flapped.

She took off with hardly any effort, almost straight up. Each flap brought a noticeable increase in altitude. Like a swimming stroke propelled her forwards, so too did her wings propel her upward.. Soon she was high above the ground, almost level with the top of the cliff. She subconsciously decided that it was time to level off and flap over to the edge.

The moment she tried to ease forward into a glide, her left wing dropped, just like every previous attempt. This time, however, she was high enough to cause some serious damage. She was spiralling down in a series of tighter and tighter turns, despite beating her wings desperately. The ground was rapidly approaching. There was no water below her, only hard mud and rocks.

She had to break out of the spiral or risk getting badly injured. The Night Fury folded her wings completely, halting the turning motion, but she was flung straight towards the rocky cliff face with what remained of her lateral energy. She threw her wings back open again, straining the joints to their limit. She slowed down just enough to hit the ground and not the rock wall. She closed her eyes and prayed.

When she opened her eyes she was lying upside down in a scaly heap. She had made another trench in the ground, but luckily, nothing was broken. Groaning, she rolled onto her front, accidently sitting on her tailfins. It was unusually tender, but she didn't know why.

She brought her tail up for inspection, and what she saw pushed her straight back into depression.

Her left tailfin had been completely shorn off, as if it was never even there. All that remained was a thick, black scab covering the wound. The latest crash had drawn a thin line of blood, which oozed out of the old wound. She slumped down in despair. She was never going to escape the cove.

She would never escape, never find the Night Fury, and never get changed back. She wouldn't even die in a blaze of glory. She was going to slowly starve and there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it. Once again, she was on the brink of tears.

It was at that point she heard something clatter to the ground, followed by a muffled curse.

She turned around and locked eyes with the Viking boy.

* * *

 **Press the review button, and learn the truth about the Matrix. Wake up Sheeple!**


	6. Chapter 6

I own you. There, you happy now?

 **Chapter 6 is up, the long awaited meeting between our two favourite protagonists. I hope that I meet your expectations, lofty as they are. With this story I have followed the movie plotline fairly closely (aside from the massive transformation obviously), but I have tried to change it up just enough to keep it interesting. Let me know what you think. To all those who reviewed the last chapter, it turns out that the matrix is a lie, (I know, I'm disappointed as well).**

 **Now, continue with the reading...**

* * *

Of course it had to be Hiccup. Only he would have spent the best part of an hour, sitting on top of the cliff, drawing her, instead of hurling a battle-axe like a well brought up Viking. Not only that, he also dropped his pencil practically on top of the most dangerous creature known to man, and was now smiling sheepishly as she bore into him with her stare.

From what she could tell, he was alone. She would have smelled any other Viking a mile away. Hiccup on the other hand, had an uncomforting tendency to bathe regularly, and his natural scent was covered up by that of the forest. Speaking of scents, there was something else that she couldn't quite recognise.

 _'_ _What is that divine smell…? FISH!_ ' Astrid suddenly leaped up, startling the poor boy, who had been as still as death for the past minute or so. She could never remember having such a dramatic reaction towards fish before, even when she was starving. Then again, she had never been able to pick out the smell so clearly before either.

Hiccup disappeared over the lip of the cliff, apparently done drawing. She slowly padded up and sniffed the pencil. It was made of charcoal, and had a strong, burned smell to it. It reminded her of Berk, the night she was transformed, but she was quick to crush those particular memories. There was also a faint smell of sweat, somewhat complemented by the overpowering stench of fear. Of course he was terrified. She had practically roared his head off when he set her free. The only reason he had come back was because she had decided against killing him.

Wait, she had _wanted_ this to happen, hadn't she? She had wanted him to come back with a force of warriors to put her out of her misery. She felt an ice cold chill run up her spine. The prospect of being surrounded and butchered whilst trapped in a rock prison no longer seemed particularly inviting. Even worse, she could be captured and used for dragon training. Her friends would no doubt have started by now, and she would be forced to…

No, it didn't bear thinking about. Hiccup wasn't here to hurt her, but he was still a threat nonetheless. Maybe if she could somehow convince him that she was harmless, he wouldn't tell his father about the most prized dragon in Viking history, trapped in the forest next door.

She would have to act as non-threatening as possible if she wanted any chance of living through the next few days. Maybe if she got him to trust her, if he was willing to get close her, she could show him who she really was.

She could hear him climbing down to the cove through a narrow gorge. If he was trying to be stealthy, it wasn't working. Her ears could clearly make out his constant cursing and protest as he nearly slipped, twice. He was getting closer, so Astrid retreated behind a large boulder to provide her with some concealment.

Hiccup paused at the gap in the rocks, a shield covering most of his body.

 _'_ _A shield? Is he really thinking about fighting…?'_

He threw a fish out into the open. It was all Astrid could do to stop herself from pouncing and devouring it. In her panic to escape the cove, she didn't realise just how hungry she was. She hadn't eaten anything since the transformation, and had been using up a lot of energy recently, what with her multiple near death experiences. She was no expert, but she was pretty sure that one of her ribs wasn't meant to be showing beneath her scales.

A loud scraping sound stung her ears and caused her to flinch slightly. Hiccup had managed to wedge his shield in the narrowest part of the entrance. Gods, that boy was clumsy even when his life depended on it. He advanced into the cove, fish in hand. He was slowly turning on the spot, scanning for the huge dragon that had already slowly emerged behind him.

 _'_ _First things first'_ thought Astrid. _'I need that fish'_

 **"** **Give me the fish, Hiccup"**. She spoke slowly and deliberately.

Hiccup had to stifle a yelp as he turned to find the creature that had almost killed him, just outside clawing distance. As she had expected, he didn't understand a word of what she said. But it didn't take dragon senses to know that he was utterly terrified, although the smell of fear was ruining the delicious taste of the fish. That and the signature scent of metal… wait.

Astrid's stance immediately became hostile. Her eyes slit and she lowered herself to the ground. When Hiccup reached for his knife she let out a loud growl. She couldn't believe it. He was not going to attack her. Not in _her_ territory.

The boy slowly unsheathed the blade, holding it by the tip. He dropped it on the floor by his feet.

 **"** **Away"** , she growled, gesturing to the lake.

He kicked the blade away, and it landed the water with a satisfying plop.

 _'_ _Get a hold of yourself Astrid, we're trying to make him like us. Or at least not kill us_ '

She made a deliberate show of calming herself, acting like a responsible, adult dragon. Failing that, she shrunk back and made herself look as small and harmless as she could, with her pupils wide and her ear flaps held erect. Some might have even called it cute.

Hiccup finally had the courage to step forward, holding up the fish. She wanted to make this as easy as possible, and met him more than halfway, mouth wide open for the fish.

"Toothless… I could have sworn you had-"

Astrid's instincts did the work for her once again. She didn't even realise that her teeth had the ability to retract until the fish was most of the way down her throat, and she was purring at Hiccup like a cat for more. Whilst taking a step towards the boy, he fell back against a rock.

"…Teeth. Wait, I don't have anymore."

Astrid fought for control of her body again, temporarily driving the instincts away. She felt suddenly sick. Her new stomach was having difficulty accepting food for the first time, but that didn't upset her as much as the thought that she had just eaten a raw fish whole.

She felt convulsions in her insides and in her throat. She could feel the fish get pushed straight back up her gullet, and she knew what was about to happen. She coughed, and promptly threw up half a fish onto Hiccup's lap. She shrunk back, thoroughly disgusted at herself. She had done some awkward things in her life before, but nothing came even close to this. There was no telling what the boy would do. She had emptied the contents of her stomach on to the only person who had a hope in Hell of saving her.

To her astonishment, he picked up the fish, and reluctantly took a small bite out of its raw flesh.

 **"** **No, no, you don't need to…"**

He swallowed the fish, scales and all, and he did a better job of keeping it down than she had. If dragons could blush, Astrid would be bright red. Never in her life had she been more humiliated or embarrassed.

Hiccup smiled a toothy grin. Maybe Astrid could recover the situation if she smiled back. She concentrated hard, eventually finding the muscles in her face that controlled her dragon 'lips'. She tensed them until they curled up away from her toothless mouth, making sure to keep her pupils extra wide. She must have looked horrifying. Hiccup, however, was undeterred. He shuffled forwards, reaching out like he was trying to stroke her.

"Funny. You're so gentle, I can't believe that you're the one who killed Astrid"

She recoiled in anger, her smile turning into a snarl. How _dare_ he. Accuse her of killing Astrid, and mistake her for the male who had carried her off and started this whole mess. The Vikings should be after _him_ , not her. She hadn't asked for any of this. The very thought of betraying her village was maddening, especially when someone accused _her_ of committing the crime. She was the victim here.

She stormed off to the other side of the lake and lay down, covering herself with her wings and tail. Hiccup followed behind, but she ignored him. It was fine, he should probably just leave now he'd given her the fish.

She sat, wallowing in anger and self-pity for a few hours. She would have fallen asleep if it wasn't for the constant threat of the Viking boy. Eventually, she got back up again, and Hiccup was still in the cove, sat near the entrance. She couldn't just stay this way forever. She needed Hiccup to like her if he was going to keep bringing fish, and she had no intention of starving to death.

 _'_ _It's not his fault. He doesn't know it's me. All he sees is the Night Fury that carried off Astrid during a raid. If only he could understand me'_

Hiccup was sat, his back to the lake, drawing pictures in the sand. It was getting lake now, and the cove had adopted a gentle blue hue as night began to slowly roll in over the horizon. Astrid came right up behind Hiccup, so close that her breath blew his hair over his face.

Hiccup, stayed where he was, not turning around. He used a stick to add the finishing touches to a Night Fury. She was amazed. Even with a stick in the ground he had quickly created a quite brilliant picture of her new figure. Had he always been this good at drawing? Nothing in the village came close. How could anyone be called a failure when they possessed such talent? Maybe they should have paid more attention to him. Maybe she shouldn't have ignored him for all those years.

But right now, she could use drawing to show Hiccup that she was intelligent, more than a beast. Holding one claw like a pen, she tried to draw a rough picture of Hiccup next to the Night Fury. She struggled. Night Fury's lacked the fine motor skills of their human counterparts. All she could manage was a shaky circle with some lines in the middle. Hiccup laughed, she laughed too, her deep, baritone warble completely contrasting Hiccup's adolescent giggle. She had to admit, her drawing was pretty terrible.

Suddenly, she had an idea. _'I'm an idiot,'_ she thought. _'I can just tell Hiccup what's going on'_.

Underneath Hiccup's portrait of the Night Fury, she began to scratch some runes.

 **A-S-**

She made slow progress with her limited control. The runes were large and rough, but they were at least legible.

 **T-R-**

"Wait, what are you doing…?"

 **I-D**

 **A-S-T-R-I-D**

She pointed at the name, then the picture, and then herself

 **"** **Hiccup, it's me, Astrid".**

* * *

 **#annoyingcliffhangar**

 **Its official, if you review this story, there is a 1 in 1337 chance that you will become a dragon. (I know, I've tried).**


	7. Chapter 7

I am Maximus Decimus Meridius. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife, and I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next. That does not, however, mean that I own the 'How To Train Your Dragon' franchise.

 **Calm down everyone, the wait is over. Finally, we have Astrid and Hiccup interacting with one another. Fluff Fans, Unite!**

 **Anyway, as you can see, this is no longer canon with the main story. I will use elements from it in future, but as you can probably tell the story is fundamentally different at this point. I update fairly quickly because I have a storyline mapped out and the time to do so, but that will change at one point, enjoy it while it lasts!** **The secret to my writing prowess? It's supermarket brand shampoo and conditioner. Believe me, it works wonders.**

 **Anyway, Chapter 7**

* * *

There was absolute silence as Hiccup stared at Astrid. The dragon held its breath as Hiccup just stood and gawped, his mouth hanging wide open. He looked even more foolish than he normally did, trapped somewhere between fear, surprise, amazement and fainting. There was absolutely no way, _no way_ , that this was real. Dragons couldn't write, and Astrid wasn't a dragon. He started to back away, laughing nervously.

"I must be feeling sick. Yeah, that's probably it. There just no way… It's not possible... I can't, you're not..."

The dragon moaned again, pointing at the name of his dead friend, and back at itself. It had taken him a minute to understand what it was trying to say. It was insanity, but the spidery runes scratched in the dirt confirmed the impossible. Somehow, for whatever reason, by some black magic that scared him to the core, the creature that stood in front of him was Astrid.

He just couldn't find the words to describe the shock and horror that he felt. This was a _Night Fury_ , the most powerful and dangerous dragon ever to plague Barbaric Archipelago, and yet it was also the most prolific teenage dragon slayer in Berk's history. It was almost too much for his head to deal with. After all, it wasn't every day the object of his adolescent obsession turned into the unholy offspring of Lightning and Death itself.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to visualise Astrid's blond hair and beautiful face in place of the scaled animal before him. It was just _so difficult_ to believe that this was the Viking girl that had been carried off from the village not two days earlier. He simply couldn't match up any of the feminine features that had been burned into his memory since childhood, with the hunched over dragon that was sitting opposite him.

He stared deeply into her eyes. They were pools of sadness and desperation, a world away from the anger and pain of when they had first met. He held her gaze, searching for some meaning in those wide, inviting pupils. One thing was abundantly clear, it meant him no harm. There was not a trace of hatred in those eyes. Maybe, just maybe, it – no _she_ , was telling the truth.

"Astrid… Is that you…?"

She let out a cry of happiness and barrelled forward. Before he could react, Hiccup had been scooped up, as she grabbed hold of him tightly in the dragon equivalent of a bear hug. She was shaking, and making irregular, choking warbles as she enveloped the small boy with her vast wings. To Hiccup, it sounded a lot like she was crying.

There was no doubting it now, this was Astrid. Dragons were never big on hugging or crying, at least not in his experience. He was still pressed up against her, trapped by her wings as she curled up around him. As she nuzzled his chest with her enormous head, she let out a high pitched whine. He gently patted her snout.

"Hey, hey. It's okay. I'm still here"

His words seemed to calm her down. She set him down gently, and took a pace backwards before laying down on her paws. She was still shaking, but only slightly. "I can't believe it, you… you're a dragon!"

She moaned and nodded her head. She must have been traumatised, judging by her reactions. It wasn't surprising, she had been all alone, living out in the wild, exposed to the elements. Hiccup flinched, remembering the storm of the night before. She had been devoid of all human contact and support, despite going through what must have been the most harrowing experience in Viking history.

She wouldn't have been able to come home, she would have been killed on sight. Gods, even her own family would have gutted her and turned her into a wall decoration, or maybe a nice rug. If there was one thing Hiccup knew about the Hoffersons, it was that they always fought to the bitter end when it came to vengeance. They would welcome the opportunity to behead the beast that had robbed them of their daughter.

Hiccup looked around. From the looks of it, this _was_ her new home. She had nowhere else to go, and this seemed to suit her needs well enough. Fresh water, cover from any roaming humans… He could hardly imagine the pain she must have been going through, to be hunted by the ones you loved through no fault of your own. All this time the village thought she had been killed by Night Fury. No one had even considered the possibility that she had become one herself.

If there was any doubt before, it was all gone now. He would look after her, it was the least he could do, given what she had been through. Hiccup would not tell anyone that there was a deadly Night Fury living in the forest nearby. Not when that deadly Night Fury happened to be his friend Astrid.

 _'_ _Wait, she's my friend now?'_ Hiccup laughed inwardly to himself. _'I suppose she is, I'm all she's got'_.

It was not lost on Hiccup that Astrid had hugged him for the first time only _after_ she had been transformed into a killer beast of the night. Loki never ceased to amaze him with the tricks he pulled.

It was getting dark now, and Astrid's eyes shone a brilliant green. Using a single claw, she slowly started to write something in the dirt. Hiccup leaned over to try and read it, but the light was dying.

"I can't see. Let me build a fire and then we'll talk".

Astrid nodded in agreement. He turned to go and gather some sticks that were big enough, but had wasn't having much luck. Astrid silently got up and padded over to the forested area of the cove. Hiccup was busy piling up what little kindling he had. He was never very good at camping skills, a hundred failed adventures in the forest with the other teens when he was younger had taught him that the hard way. Nevertheless, he always carried a small flint along with his knife.

Whilst Hiccup had his head down, striking the flint with another stone, Astrid dragged a large sapling over with her teeth, and dumped it beside Hiccup. She sat back on her hind legs, tongue out and tail wagging.

"Well that works as well, I guess."

With branches from the sapling, and a few minutes of cursing and bleeding knuckles later, they had a roaring fire.

"So…" said Hiccup, pulling up his knees and looking at the dragon.

"Tell me everything".

* * *

 **ANOTHER NIGHT FU-**

"Wait, the _other_ Night Fury transformed you. Why?"

Astrid nodded and rolled her eyes. She would never be able to explain everything if Hiccup kept interrupting her. The boy asked too many questions.

They were still sitting by the fire, although Astrid didn't need to. Her night vision was extraordinary and she no longer felt the cold when she lay outside at night. Admittedly, being hungry didn't help, but she was able to withstand much lower temperatures than she ever had as a human.

 **I THINK**

She thought about the best way to explain this to him. How could she reveal that the only reason she was currently a dragon was so that she could have hatchlings with the male who had been attacking their village mercilessly for the last decade.

 **I WAS TO BE HIS MATE**

"Wait, _what_? He wanted you to… to…"

She moaned sadly and nodded, her head drooping. It was comforting to be able to talk to somebody after everything that had happened, even if she couldn't exactly talk.

"That's horrible, I'm so sorry."

Hiccup put his hand on her tail. She could feel the warmth spreading from the tiny point of contact. She didn't know if she was cold blooded or not, but her body temperature was certainly less that it had been before, at least in her extremities.

"What are you going to do now? Is there anything you can do?"

 **FIND HIM. CHANGE BACK**

Saying it to someone else, she realised how impossible that task was. Even if she could find the other Night Fury, as she had no idea where he was, what were the chances of him agreeing to change her back into a professional dragon-slayer? He needed her, and she was fairly confident that he would be able to overpower her, what with his significantly greater experience when it came to being a dragon and all. Mating as a dragon sounded horrific, but getting raped as a dragon? It made her shiver just thinking about it.

"Why are you here then? Isn't he out there somewhere?" He gestured vaguely up at the sky. For all he knew the dragon could be circling right above them and he would never realise it. They were called _Night_ Furies for a reason.

She held up her tailfin, fanning out the single flap that remained. Most of the pain had gone away, but it was clear that it wasn't growing back. She let out a small moan of despair. There was no way that she could get out of the cove, not without help.

"Oh… Is that why you couldn't just fly away?"

She closed her eyes, crooning slightly. Hiccup shuffled up closer. He reached out to touch her side, but his hand froze at the last second.

"May I", he asked nervously.

Astrid nodded her approval. He began to lightly stroke her, feeling each individual scale. She had to admit, it felt quite nice. It was like she was on the edge of being tickled. As he caressed her, she noticed how soft his hands were, so very soft. Maybe it was just because she had a thick, armoured hide covering every inch of her body, but she could have sworn that his touch was as soft and as caring as her mother's when she was a child. It was almost as comforting.

She stretched out her paws and rolled over slightly, giving him a chance to rub her belly. She closed her eyes. She didn't have a clue what she was doing, it just felt _so good_ …

"Wow, this is amazing. You are amazing." He let out a short chuckle. "Nobody has ever even seen a Night Fury before, and I end up giving one a massage."

 **"** **Okay, that's enough now."**

She rolled back down, a slight frown directed at the boy. She might not be acting hostile towards the boy, but that did not make her some kind of pet. Besides, she had something she needed to ask him.

 **IN THE FOREST, WHY DID YOU NOT KILL ME?**

Hiccup read the runes and leant back, his eyebrows creased in thought. It took him a minute to find the words, but Astrid waited patiently. She was very interested in what he had to say.

"I couldn't kill you, because… You looked just as scared as I was. I looked at you, and saw myself. It might sound stupid now, but back then I just thought you just were a dragon, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm sorry for shooting you down"

She considered what he had said. Hiccup really was something else. He was perfectly willing to set free a live dragon, just because it looked as terrified as he was. Nobody else in the village could even comprehend that dragons were capable of thought and feeling. She really was lucky that it was Hiccup who had found her, and not idiot like – she shuddered – Snotlout.

Wait a minute, _Hiccup_ had shot her down. She wasn't angry. A tailfin was a small price to pay for control over her body. But it was unexpected, the boy couldn't do anything right. It did make sense, however. Nobody else had come to find her so it must have been him. Still, that bola had hit her hard, and there was no way he was strong enough to throw it. Maybe one of his inventions had worked after all…

"Listen, if you can't get out of here, how about I bring you back some fish tomorrow. You like fish, right?"

She nodded eagerly, and silently thanked whichever gods were still listening. At least she wouldn't starve. As for the food, fish was the only thing she knew she could eat, and it was one of the few resources that Berk had in abundance. Really, what was just another mouth to feed, even one as big as hers?

 **BRING LOTS. I AM A HUNGRY, HUNGRY DRAGON**

Hiccup laughed. She felt oddly pleased that she had made him smile, and before she realised, she was sporting a wide, toothless grin as well. He yawned.

"Well, it's getting late. I'd better be off. I'll see you tomorrow…"

 **"** **No, please. Don't go, not yet. Just stay for a little bit longer."**

Astrid whined and tugged on his shirt. She really enjoyed his company, and wasn't sure she was ready for another night alone.

"Wait, you want me to stay here?"

She nodded vigorously, laying down and making her best 'cute face'.

"Well, when you put it that way… My Dad's out looking for the nest, nobody will miss me. I guess I could stay the night, if you're okay with it."

She rolled her eyes. Of course she was okay with it, she had asked him for Thor's sake. He lay down by the fire, and tried to get comfortable.

"This was a bad idea, what if it rains again? What if the fire goes out? Won't I freeze?"

She snorted and pulled him up against her, under a wing. Neither of them would freeze if they huddled up like this.

"Well I guess this isn't so bad…"

That night, she slept better than she had in years.

* * *

 **Review now and I won't haunt your dreams tonight... (Or maybe I will, its not my choice to be honest).**


	8. Chapter 8

If I owned the HTTYD franchise, do you really think I would be writing fanfiction? Actually, I probably would, its so much fun! :D

 **Update time! A slightly longer chapter for my wonderful readers. A quick shout out to another dedicated fan "ivanganev1992". One day I will fully understand your reviews, and that day will be glorious. In the meantime KEEP REVIEWING! Your support is greatly appreciated.**

 **When it comes to writing fanfiction, the issue is that the overwhelming majority of readers will know the source material inside and out. I've tried to make this story compelling and different, but there are some similarities with the original film. Still, its not bad for a first attempt. Let me know what you think about it. I can't improve without brutal and merciless hatred and criticism, so go nuts!**

 **Enjoy Chapter 8 with a cup of your favourite tea.**

* * *

A thunderous boom echoed through the night sky as Astrid collapsed another tower with a bolt of blue plasma. She was followed out of the dive by the screams of the dying, crushed and broken by the falling masonry. She broke through the clouds with the last of her momentum, hanging for a second in front of the pale moon before she plunged back down for another attack.

This time, the Great Hall. The other dragons didn't normally bother with attacking this building. It was too solidly built, and the only food they kept inside was burned beyond recognition, to be eaten by the Vikings later. She, on the other hand, knew of something else that was stored within the thick, stone walls.

Pulling out of the dive, she flew parallel to the ground, below the level of the tallest buildings. Flying straight at the entrance, she could still see Vikings rushing out, desperate to arm themselves against the coming threat. She grinned, a high pitch scream causing those nearby to flee in blind panic as a fire ball built up deep within her throat. There was no escaping what was coming.

At the last second she fired the blast straight through the entrance, and pulled up hard, just scraping the tiles on the roof, and smashing through an ornate stone dragon that stood atop the building. A streak of lightning hissed through the hall, passing over the heads of those unfortunate enough to still be inside.

All were incinerated as the hall disappeared with a blinding light could be seen for miles. It stung her sensitive eyes, but Astrid forced herself to watch as the wooden roof of structure slowly collapsed into the hall below. Plumes of flame forced their way out of every window, and the enormous oak doors were blown off their hinges as the oldest and strongest building in the village became its latest funeral pyre.

Her shot had been spot on. It had exploded in the storeroom that, only weeks before the midsummer's festival, had been filled to the brim with alcohol. Wine, ale, mead, it did not matter. The Vikings enjoyed it because it was inebriating and delicious. She enjoyed it because it was highly flammable.

Her night vision had been ruined, but it didn't matter. From now on, she would be fighting up close and personal. She circled the village, scanning carefully for a worthy target. A group of Vikings were clustered round a large redhead near one of the towers she had destroyed earlier. It was giving orders - clearly in charge, and it made killing that one a priority.

She landed heavily on its shoulders, screeching with delight as she felt its spine snap. Putting all of her weight on one foot, she crushed the rib cage for good measure. She slowly turned to see a small army of battle-hardened Viking warriors, frozen in shock and fear. She smiled. This was turning out to be a good raid after all.

 **"** **Who's first…?"**

The Vikings roared and charged her, but she was too quick. She jumped onto a nearby Viking and clamped down on its head and chest. She let out a small jet of flame that burned through its upper body. Her next victim. She swiped with her left paw and it dodged underneath, but it didn't see her right paw until it had cut deep into the flesh. Her claws caught on its armour, and she had to shake the body loose.

Tossing it aside into a burning building, she leapt out of the way of another attack. The warrior stood up tall and shouted at her, an enormous bloodied hammer in its hands. She laughed at its attempt to intimidate her. Her tail shot out and knocked it to the ground.

She trotted over and bit into its throat, warm blood coating her muzzle. The other Vikings were all running now. Soon, she was left alone with the corpses of her victims, and she continued to chew on the tendons in the neck. Dawn was approaching, and the raid was coming to an end.

 ** _"…_** ** _COME…"_**

She felt the pull of the Mother, they all did. She took off and lazily circled around, riding on the thermals from the fires. She was looking for something to take back to the nest, to satisfy its insatiable appetite. It wasn't really her job to collect the food, but she plucked an oblivious sheep from a nearby field, just so she didn't return empty handed.

The world seemed to melt away and reform in front of her eyes, and she suddenly found herself flying through thick clouds with the rest of the flock. She idly licked at the blood on her front paws. It was dry and sticky, but it was still full of flavour.

They were close to the nest now, and she began to feel uneasy. For some reason she always hated coming home. Perhaps it was overpowering smell of fear from hundreds of trapped dragons, packed far too tightly into the hellish mountain. She couldn't leave, none of them could. She could feel the presence of the mother. It permeated throughout her body, and she could feel it crawling through her head. It was nothing like she had ever felt in her life, a sense of complete and utter hopelessness that gripped the heart of every dragon that fell under her control. She felt violated as it flicked through her memories, her most private thoughts and feelings. She was powerless to stop it.

They broke through the fog to emerge about halfway up a black mountain. She followed as the flock gained altitude together, before plunging into an opening at the top of what was obviously some kind of volcano. The mass of dragons spiralled downward, and it took all her concentration not to collide with any of the other unfortunate slaves. They began to drop their haul into the gaping maw of the mother below them, hidden by a thick layer of smoke.

She was about to drop her kill, but when she looked down, she was no longer carrying a sheep. She was carrying herself. Her _human_ self, and she was still alive, barely. She stared at her body, bloodied and limp, and screamed.

Despite being a dragon, she still screamed with her human voice. Her delicate, light voice that was currently making a piercing scream that hurt her ears. Astrid could not bring herself to drop it into the pit, and she forced her way out of the circling mass.

She collided with several Nadders, getting thrown off balance. She half landed, half crashed on a ledge to the side of the cavern. Dropping her blond haired counterpart on the ground.

She slowly turned to witness the largest creature she had ever seen slowly emerge from below the smoke. Its head alone filled up most of the empty space, as the cavern was now empty. Dragons sheltered in caves and behind rocks, none of them wanting to attract the attention of the monster that regularly dined on anyone who displeased her.

Multiple eyes cracked open and focused in on her. She felt like they were boring through her flesh, her very being.

It spoke softly, one word, in Hiccup's voice.

"Astrid…?"

Suddenly, its head shot forward, engulfing the human Astrid who was laying in front of it. She barely had enough time to leap away and get airborne.

"Astrid?"

She joined the mass of dragons that were desperately trying to escape the Mother's wrath. She flapped as a hard as she could, her head spinning and lungs burning. She could sense its head approaching from below.

"Astrid?"

Its jaws met around her tail, ripping through the scales as it pulled her down.

"ASTRID"

She screamed in pain, as the bones in her tail were crushed under the force of the impossibly large teeth.

"ASTRID!"

The world darkened as she plummeted through the smoke and into oblivion…

* * *

"Astrid, wake up"

The Dragon had been thrashing around for the last few minutes, twitching occasionally, as if she was in intense pain. Hiccup could sympathise with her, he'd had more than his fair share of nightmares when he was younger. Sometimes it was his Father, his Mother, the dragons, Astrid. It was funny, he'd actually had a nightmare about her turning into a dragon before; except in the dream she'd killed him in front of the village because he had tried to steal her teeth to sell to Trader Al. Even in his dreams he was an imaginative, paranoid boy.

She had finally stopped moving, and slowly cracked open an eye. She was splayed out on her front, wings outstretched like a huge black sail. It would have been funny if she had not looked so tired and scared.

"Well hello there miserable. Tough night?"

The Night Fury groaned and stood up, giving Hiccup a look of mild annoyance. She stretched out like a cat, and then began to write in the dirt.

 **JUST GREAT**

Apparently she was developing his skill for sarcasm, although Hiccup himself like to call it 'satire'.

 **BAD DREAMS. THANK YOU FOR STAYING**

He hadn't really had a choice, if he could remember correctly. It was either stay the night, or risk upsetting a dragon with the words "Offspring of Death" in its official title. Still, it was nice to be thanked for once. It was a new experience, a strange feeling. He didn't know what to do next.

"…uh, Thanks for not letting me freeze to death?"

She snorted and rolled her eyes. She padded over to the lake and dunked her completely under the water. He couldn't tell if she was drinking or just trying to wake up, probably both.

"Hey, uh, maybe you shouldn't do that. We learned in dragon training that if you get cover the head with water…"

Astrid turned and was giving him the look of death. Clearly she was not very impressed with apparent expertise when it came to dragons

"Alright, point taken…"

She returned her head to the water. He almost laughed; it took turning into a dragon for Astrid to finally notice him, but he was still completely hopeless when it came to talking to members of the opposite sex.

But Astrid had never really been _that_ kind of girl anyway. She had never shown any interest in any of her would-be suitors before, and he was pretty certain that now, most of them would run away screaming before they had even tried a first date. Growing scales was one of the fastest ways to become a social reject. That and being a Hiccup, of course.

She pulled her head out of the water with a loud gasp, before stepping in and half submerging. She looked quite nice, for a dragon at least. She was longer and sleeker than the others, although the only time he really had a chance to look at them was while they were trying to kill him during training. There were none of the spikes of the Nadder, or the horns and thin neck of the Nightmare. As for the Gronkle, she looked significantly less like a boulder with wings.

She stepped out of the water and shook like a dog, showering Hiccup with big droplets. She trotted up to him with that absurd grin on her face, like she had just won some kind of prize for 'bath of the day'. She lay down in front of him, and started to write in the dirt, her writing was improving.

 **I CAN HEAR AND SMELL EVERYTHING NOW. YOU SMELL LIKE ME – IN A GOOD WAY**

Well that was a really comforting thought. Not only did he have to walk through the village, worried about accidentally causing a disaster wherever he went, but he also had to cope with smelling like a dragon. His week just kept on getting better and better. The thought that Astrid had somehow marked him with her scent wasn't troubling _at all_.

"It is… nice?"

Again, he failed miserably not to sound like a complete idiot.

 **SAFE**

"Well that makes sense. I'm not going to tell anyone that I've found you here. It can be our little secret. Say, do you want to talk about the dream you just had, you've gone through a lot after all. Maybe I can help?"

Pain briefly flashed across her face. He sensed that these dreams might be a little bit worse than his tooth-stealing/public execution night terrors.

 **I ATTACKED BERK, KILLED MANY VIKINGS**

Hiccup winced, that was bad. She was probably not in control of her actions, even as she attacked the one's she loved. It was only natural. They had all grown up to the sound of that Night Fury attacking Berk, so obviously she would see herself as the attacker, now that she was one.

 **I KILLED STOICK, LIKED IT, BLOOD…**

She was clearly struggling to express what she had seen, what she had done. Dreams cold be so real sometimes that you are convinced the entire time that you are living in the real world. Admittedly, the real world was a lot crazier now, what with Vikings transforming into dragons. He lay a comforting hand on either cheek

"Its okay, I'm sorry, you don't have to…"

She shook her head, dislodging her hands. She was determined to get through this. She always had been determined.

 **WENT BACK TO THE NEST, EATEN BY MONSTER. SO REAL… TOO REAL.**

"That sounds horrible. I'm sorry you had to go through that alone. I'm sorry you have to go through any of this alone."

 **ALSO, I SAW MYSELF. MY** **REAL** **SELF.**

So that was it. Astrid must have seen her human form again, and it was getting to her. It would get to anyone, to see the body they were born in, knowing full well that they had turned into some kind of beast on the outside. It was a wonder that Astrid hasn't killed herself. Out of rage, grief or madness. Hiccup recapped what he already knew. He was going to help Astrid return back to her true form, no matter what it took.

"I'm not going to abandon you, you know that right?"

She lifted up her head, looking at Hiccup with her sad, round eyes.

"I'll come back with some food, and we'll find out how to fix you."

She nodded, before warbling and nuzzling his chest. He could feel the vibrations, even through the fabric of his thick jerkin.

"No need to thank me, just doing my job. Friends have to look out for each other after all."

She sat back, looking thoughtful, before writing in the dirt:

 **FRIENDS?**

She awkwardly held out her paw, somewhere between a high-five and a handshake

"Friends" confirmed Hiccup, pressing his hand up against hers. Little did she know, she was essentially his only friend. He smiled, maybe they had more in common than they thought…

* * *

"And that's when the murderous beastie, eyes blazing red as a furnace, jumped up and took my leg."

Hiccup sighed, he wasn't really listening to Gobber's. After working as his apprentice for years, he had heard most of his stories, and they all tended to end in the same way. Either a mythical 'Bone-knapper' or some ridiculous hammerhead animal would end up stealing one of his limbs – or save them, he could never remember.

The sun had set hours ago, but they were still training, in a way. Perched atop one of the old towers overlooking the sea, the class had gathered to discuss strategy, or at least the closest thing to strategy that a rabble of untrained youths could handle. Gobber told them the best tactics for dealing with each particular dragon, from bashing on a shield to playing dead and stabbing at its underbelly when it got close.

Hiccup should have excelled at this academic stuff, but he just didn't have the heart. Every time they faced a dragon in the arena, he couldn't shake the feeling that they might be sentient, intelligent beings that were being hounded to death, just so that some arrogant Viking teenagers could complete their stupid 'dragon training'.

"Wouldn't it be cool, to think that if you could still control your hand, inside the dragon, you could have killed it from the inside, by crushing its heart… or something."

Fishlegs wasn't making any sense as usual. Normally, he might have spoken up, dismissing his theory on the basis of incomplete evidence and common sense, but in the end, he ignored the large boy. Hiccup was too busy thinking about Astrid to pay much attention to anyone.

He had returned to the cove several times over the last few days, bringing her food and company. They talked a lot, and she had told him about the other Night Fury, her brief spell under the control of someone called 'The Mother', and just general information about what it was like to be a dragon. It was amazing, the book of dragons would have to be re-written, with multiple sequels, just with the information he had learned those last few days. She told him about every aspect to her new life, from sleeping to eating to swimming in the lake. Modesty apparently didn't apply when you were a giant, scaled creature of death. She was naked, after all. The tailors in Berk tended not to make dresses for dragons of her size.

Hiccup talked about dragon training, his work in the forge, and news and information from the village. She listened intently, eyes and ears all focused in on the boy. She would never admit it, but she was clearly homesick. Hiccup could see that it was slowly eating her up inside, to be so close to home and yet be trapped in the cove, unable to reach anyone that she loved. She ate up as much information as she could.

He told her about her family, the funeral, and how everyone was missing her. Maybe she didn't realise just how influential she was in the village, but she stared in disbelief when he told her that other teens could sometimes be heard crying at night, their eyes swollen and red in the morning. She had bowed her head in sadness when she heard about her family. They had taken her loss hard. He supposed that years of being the best warrior of her generation had convinced her parents that she was invincible. In a way, now more than ever, she was.

Sometimes he stayed the night, sometimes he didn't, but whenever he did stay, she never had another nightmare. Not like the first night, at least. She had found shelter on the higher ground in the cove, nestled between the rock wall and some old boulders that were covered in moss. Hiccup had actually brought some wooden planks to try and build some kind of house, but in the end they just kept the rain off her head at night. She maintained that her waterproof wings were a far better cover anyway.

Occasionally, they talked about flying, and Astrid would try again to escape, but to no avail. Every time she lost control as her tail failed to give her the direction and stability needed for steady flight. Still, it was as incredible as it was terrifying to see the power in those wings, especially considering that only a few weeks ago, she had been only slightly bigger than Hiccup, although infinitely more skilled.

He hadn't told her directly that he had shot her down, but she was a smart dragon, and he was sure she had figured it out by now. He wasn't going to press the issue either way. Not when, for the first time in his life, he was actually enjoying the company of someone his own age.

He caught her gazing up at the stars a few times. He wondered whether deep down in her dragon instincts she wanted to be up there among them, soaring high above the world, invisible to anyone and everyone. Flying would have been amazing. He had no doubt that it would have made her terrible fate slightly less of a burden on her soul. As it was, she was slowly spiralling into depression.

"… I'll cut off the arms and legs of every dragon I see, with my face!"

Hiccup had tuned out of the conversation for a while, but it was only Snotlout who was speaking, so he hadn't missed much.

"No, it's the wings and tails you want. Get them, and it can't get away. A downed dragon, is a dead dragon..."

Hiccup sat up. His mind forming a shadow of an idea in his head, going into overdrive as it pieced together a plan that would finally solve Astrid's problem with being trapped in the cove. It was stupid, it was crazy, it was _insane_ … but it just might work. Working for years in the forge had honed his talent for creation and invention. When combined with his overactive young mind, it gave him a very unique set of skills.

He slipped quietly away into the night, climbing noiselessly down the wooden ramp of the tower. Nobody noticed that he had left, and nobody came looking for him afterwards. That was good, he needed to do this alone. If his calculations were correct, Astrid's problems could be solved in just a few days.

"Don't worry Astrid, I'll fix you. It's the least I can do for a friend in need."

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 **This time, I challenge you to _Follow_ and _Favourite_ , as well as review. Remember every follower gets a free cupcake at Ragnar** **ö** **k. Join the Party!**


	9. Chapter 9

The 'How to Train Your Dragon' franchise is owned by the ghost of Marie Antoinette. Use it unlawfully and she will not let you eat cake.

 **Update time my minions! From here, things will become slightly more divergent from the original plotline, but I will still use plenty of elements from the film and blend them with my own ideas to create a delicious plot milkshake. This story is really beginning to get some love so I just want to thank everyone who pressed favourite, follow or review button. Sure, thanks to everyone else, but those of you who don't review don't get a Ragnar** **ø** **k cupcake, as we have already established.**

 **Anyway, on with the unusually long chapter.**

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Hiccup arrived later in the day than he normally did. She could hear him coming from a mile off, what with his constant groaning and questioning of the Gods for his lack of strength. By the sounds of it, he was struggling under the weight of something heavy. She hoped it wasn't more planks, they had already established that Hiccup was a complete failure when it came to building shelters, and most of it had ended up as firewood anyway.

But it didn't really matter what he was bringing. His visit was the highlight of her day. He would sit and talk to her when she was scared and alone, which was all the time these days. He would tell her that everything was going to be okay, that it would all work out in the end, that she would find a way out of the cove, that she would see her family again…

She was certain that if it wasn't for Hiccup, she would be dead or insane by now. She wasn't going to tell him, but she owed him her life, and not just because he brought her food.

Speaking of food, the scent of fish was a lot stronger this time, and she soon saw why. Emerging through the narrow gap in the cliffs was Hiccup, carrying an enormous basket of fish. It was at least as big as he was. It was incredible, she had no idea how he was able to carry it the entire way. That explained why he was late, but there were also bags under his eyes, like he had been up the entire night.

He dropped the basket in front of her, fish spilling out. She chirped with pleasure. It was more than twice what he normally brought her, and it was fresh too.

"So how's my favourite dragon today? I brought you some extra fish. Salmon, some nice Icelandic Cod, even a whole smoked eel."

Astrid eyed the eel nervously. She had always liked eel before, especially when smoked. It was easy to prepare and cook, compared to fish at least, and it was available all year round. Something about its bright yellow stripes and curious smell just made her want to keep well back. It was probably nothing, and there was a large variety of other seafood to keep her interested in the meantime. In fact, it looked as if somebody had gone through all the storerooms and deliberately picked the biggest and freshest fish on offer.

 **"** **You are so nice Hiccup, thank you."**

She nuzzled up to him, purring subconsciously. He scratched behind her ear flaps, and the purring grew louder. It was the one place she could never reach, and he knew it.

"Don't worry, it was nothing. I was up in time to see the fishermen come back, and I just had to ask nicely."

She stepped back and looked up at him sceptically, a scaly eyebrow raised. His face began to turn red.

"Well, okay. Maybe I stole the fish when nobody was looking, but don't tell anyone!"

Astrid chuckled, making Hiccup blush even harder. She could have sworn that the fear on his face was genuine. Years of being at the bottom of Berk's social food chain made him naturally worried about being caught, even if he hadn't done anything wrong. Apparently he had forgotten that being a dragon made it very difficult for her to report him.

"Well, um… don't start eating yet. I got you a present. I think you'll really enjoy it."

He stumbled back into the gap in the cliff. Whatever this 'present' was, she was sure that it didn't come close to the extra fish that he'd brought. Ever since becoming a dragon, she had liked her fish raw and whole. She didn't really have much of a sense of taste anymore, and she tended to gulp them down quickly. She had a feeling that the only reason she enjoyed fish so much was the gap it filled in her stomach, and she did have quite a large stomach…

Hiccup emerged once again, this time carrying a long iron pole with leather wrapped around it. She couldn't tell what it was. A weapon? That was pointless because she had essentially become a walking arsenal, complete with claws, teeth and fire (although she hadn't quite worked out how to use it yet). Was it clothing? Astrid had no real need for clothes, considering that her scales acted as both armour and furs, protecting her from the elements and keeping her warm. Modesty wasn't exactly a priority anymore either, now that she was an entirely different species. Man, if it was clothes, she was going to _kill_ that boy. He probably wanted to dress her up for his own amusement and that was…

"Well what do you think?" he said, snapping open the device.

It was like nothing she had ever seen. It had a hard leather and metal shaft on one side, with small iron fingers that spread outwards at regular intervals. A thin sheet of hide was stretched across the width of it, expertly fixed to the iron struts that gave it a sense of shape. Each iron finger slotted into a ball joint, sunk deep into the hardened leather. It allowed the fabric to twist and fold, without risk of the metal supports ripping off. On the other side were two adjustable buckles, made to fit around something long and thin and scaly.

Her internal rant came to an abrupt end as she realised what it was. It was an exact copy of her tailfin, made entirely out of forge materials. That meant only one thing. Hiccup had built her a way out of the cove. Her jaw hung open. She couldn't believe it.

"I was just thinking, since, well, you couldn't fly away…"

She quickly scribbled in the dirt.

 **THANKYOU THANKYOU THANKYOU THANKYOU**

She pulled him into another dragon hug, rolling onto her back, a massive toothless grin stretched right across her face. She laughed out of relief and happiness. Up until now she had been living with the constant thought that she might never escape from the accursed hole in the ground. Now, she could look forward to flight, freedom and seeing her Village again. The list of things she owed Hiccup for was getting longer and longer. She squeezed him harder.

 **"** **This is the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me, thank you** ** _so_** **much"**

"Yep… thanks. I love you too… need, to, breathe.

She set him back down again. Hopefully she hadn't done too much damage. He started gasping loudly for air the moment she folded her wings away and let go with her claws. She kept on forgetting just how big she was, or maybe it was just how small that Hiccup was.

 _'_ _Nice going Astrid, almost killing the boy after he gave you such a great gift is the best thing you could have possibly done.'_

Luckily, Hiccup was used to getting almost suffocated by larger and stronger opponents – Snotlout came to mind- and he was up on his feet a minute later.

"So, you ready to try it on?"

She nodded vigorously, and turned round to present him with her tail. She felt him carefully slip it over the thicker flesh of the tail itself, and secure it with two solid straps. He tied a small rope to a waiting hook in the tallest rod, which allowing the entire wing to be pulled open from a distance. Hiccup was murmuring to himself as he worked.

"Hmm, yeah, well… it works. It's not too tight is it?" He called over her shoulder.

She just grunted and rolled her eyes. She was a _dragon_ for Thor's sake. She was covered from head to tail with a thick layer of armoured, fireproof scales. He didn't always need to be so gentle. Still, it was touching that he thought about her.

"And now, I just have to hop on and …

Rope in hand, he leant on her rump by her tail, and prepared to climb onto her back.

 **"** **What!?"**

She spun around and growled, crouched low to the ground with her eyes slit. It was odd. Maybe the thought of Hiccup getting on top of her, in her blind spot, went against basic dragon instincts, or maybe she just really didn't want to be ridden around, like the twins did with their yak. Either way, she was not amused.

 **"** **There is NO way I'm gonna let you ride me. I still have standards you know."**

"Easy there, I just want to see if I can attach the rope around your leg or the base of your tail. You need something to hold the tail open when you're flying. Can you please stop with the whole 'slit eyes' thing? It's kinda scary. Then again, you were always kinda scary…

She relaxed slightly. He was just doing this for her own good after all. She had a tendency to overreact whenever her instincts were involved. Turning into a dragon had given rise to some crazy mood swings. Hiccup was just trying to help her escape the rock prison she was trapped in, so it was in everyone's best interests that she co-operated with him.

She crooned an apology and turned back around, recovering from her sudden bout of hostility. This time, she resisted the urge to buck him off, and let him wrap the rope around her tail. Then, he took what was left, and leant right over, tying the end of the rope around her left leg. It was just long enough. Almost like he had measured it specifically for this purpose…

"Ok, now you should be able to control it yourself. Try moving your leg forward, _gently_. I don't know if the knot will hold-"

*Snap*

His instructions were cut short as half the tattered rope flew backwards and hit him in the face, knocking him clean over. Astrid froze. She looked back at Hiccup, who was clutching his forehead, and then looked at the rope. She had pulled it too hard, too fast, and it had whipped back and hit him square on the temple. The rope wasn't particularly thick, but for a small boy like Hiccup, and judging from the meaty thwack that it had made, it had been a hard hit.

"OW… I said GENTLY!"

She smiled sheepishly. For all the damage it had caused, she had honestly not pulled it that hard, and she certainly didn't expect the rope to break. She wrote in the dirt.

 **THAT** **WAS** **GENTLY**

"Well, I guess you don't know your own strength, I chose an extra strong rope especially!"

She looked down, ashamed. She had gone and ruined Hiccup's perfect plan. She was just so eager to get in the air and out of the cove that she had messed everything up. She hoped that he wasn't too mad, he had put in so much work for her already.

"Don't worry about it. I can't stay mad at you, not when I brought a spare rope."

Sure enough, strapped to the fish basket, was another length of rope. That boy really did think of everything, didn't he? He unravelled it and stretched the material out to its full length. By the looks of it, it was older and thinner than the other one, so it was probably weaker as well. He removed the scraps of the unfortunate first rope, and tied the new one to the hook on the tallest iron rod. It was lucky that only the rope had broken, and not the new tailfin.

She watched as Hiccup stood, deep in thought. She could imagine his mind slowly ticking over, working out the best way to make the fin work in flight with the new rope. He ran his hand up and down the tailfin, folding and unfolding it. She could only guess at what he was silently inventing, building, and testing in his head. He truly was amazing. He had built a workable tailfin, of his own accord, to be used on a dragon that no one had ever seen, and all this time he was acting like it was no big deal!

"I think… I think I have an idea, but you might not like it."

 **I'M ALL EARS**

"Since this rope isn't strong enough, and you won't be able to use it in the air without it breaking… Maybe I should, you know… control it. Manually."

Her jaw dropped. Leaning over her back to tie the rope around her tail was one thing, but actually _riding_ on the back of a dragon, whilst it was flying. That was something that had certainly never been tried before. She wasn't sure how it would work, but Hiccup probably already had a plan.

"I'll sit on top of you, near your tail, facing backwards. I'll have the rope in my hand, and I can control it with a lot more precision", he explained, as if on cue.

It sounded like a good plan, but there was so much that could go wrong. What if he fell off? What if the rope snapped again? What if she couldn't fly well enough to compensate for having an artificial tailfin?

But then she looked at Hiccup. He was looking serious, ready, and determined, waiting for an answer. He had made the fin, and come up with a way to use it. It was the least she could do to listen to him. What were the alternatives? Starving or going insane in a pit in the middle of the forest. Every day she felt like she was losing the will to live a little bit faster. She did not want to sink back into desperation and suicide, not after she had come so far.

Besides, now she had Hiccup, it couldn't be that bad. He was willing to risk his life with some ridiculous flying scheme, just so she could survive a little bit longer. She felt a pang of guilt. She couldn't believe that this was the boy who she had gone out of her way to ignore for the past decade. She could hardly refuse him now.

 **OKAY, IF YOU THINK IT WILL WORK**

"I know it will work. Just let me get into position".

She obliged, crouching low to the ground to let him scramble onto her back, rope in his mouth. She could hardly feel his weight as he wrapped one hand around the loose end of the rope, the other around her tail. She felt a slight tug as he opened the tailfin and closed it again, experimenting with the right amount of force to use.

"Okay, I'm ready. You can start flying now."

She backed up against the edge of the cove, giving herself as much room as possible. She prepared to take off, her haunches tensed and ready. Slowly, she unfurled her wings. She could feel the raw power in each as she stretched the muscles in her shoulder. She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, as anxiety mixed with excitement. She was about to fly properly for the first time, and if she got it wrong, Hiccup would be the one that suffered.

She pushed those thoughts out of her mind and focused on her wings and tail. She made a few minor adjustment, making sure she was level and balanced. She breathed in deeply. She was ready.

She exploded upwards, leaping high into the air. Bringing her wings down at exactly the same time, she pushed herself higher, revelling in the sense of weightlessness that came before every stroke.

She braced herself as she levelled out, fully expecting to fall to the left like she had every time before. A bolt of panic shot through her veins as she felt herself tilting, but Hiccup's fin shot open and quickly adjusted her lean.

She could hardly believe it, it was actually working. She was staying level, and moving forward, she was flying! Hiccup mirrored her thoughts.

"It works, it actually works! This is amazing!"

He tugged hard on the fin, and she suddenly felt herself pulled to the right in a tight turn. She looked back, and saw that Hiccup was still holding on. He turned and looked at her. As their eyes met, no words were needed to express the pure joy that came with being in the air. Their shared happiness came to an abrupt end however, as his look of elation turned to one of terror.

Turning around, she saw the cliff face approaching rapidly. She tilted her wings and tail towards the sky, pulling up to avoid hitting the rocks at full speed. But she had pulled up too hard, and found herself losing control as she flipped upside down, cresting an aerial loop.

While hanging in the air, Hiccup lost his grip on her tail, and fell, the rope snapping off in his hands.

"ASTRID… aaaaAHH"

She roared and dived after him. The artificial tailfin flapped wildly with the sudden rush of air, but in the dive, she didn't need it.

She grabbed Hiccup from behind with her claws, and spread her wings as wide as she could. They were almost pulled out of their sockets as she fought to slow down before they hit the ground. Just before they both smashed into the ground, she pulled up and levelled off. She started to fall to the left with the fin no longer active, and dropped Hiccup to avoid landing on top of him.

He landed and rolled, bouncing painfully along the ground before grinding to a halt in the middle of the cove. She spiralled into the shallower part of the lake, the water absorbing most of her momentum in a colossal splash. Her thoughts shot back to the first time she had landed in the water, and she desperately swam towards the shore, scanning the area for Hiccup.

She found him lying on his back, sprawled out across some soft moss. His eyes were closed and he wasn't moving. For the third time that day she had possibly killed Hiccup, and this time, he wasn't getting up. She held her breath, waiting to see if he was still breathing. Then she saw it, his tiny chest lifted up as his lungs filled with air.

She breathed a shaky sigh of relief. He wasn't dead.

 **"** **Oh Gods, what have I done?"** she moaned as she padded over to his unconscious body.

She poked his chest with her snout, nuzzling him as she normally did, trying to wake him up. Droplets of water rolled off her head, making dark, wet patches as they landed on his jerkin. She head-butted him slightly harder, but he didn't move. Failing that, she prodded him in the side with one of her claws. He didn't move. She let out a short roar right next to his head; still no reaction. She was panicking now, trotting in circles around him, desperatly trying to think of something that would wake him up.

She had an idea. It was odd, but it was all she could think of. She brought her head right up close to his, hesitated for a second, and then began to lick his face.

His eyes fluttered open, as her rough tongue coated his nose and mouth with dragon saliva.

"What is that… oh no, ah …ah no stop, stop!"

He woke up immediately, coughing and spitting, frantically wiping his face. He sat up quickly, and then immediately lay back down again, groaning. She warbled in relief, He was dazed, confused and totally off balance, but he was alive. Shaking, she helped him back to his feet, using her neck as a support. It was amazing, the boy really didn't weigh anything.

 **"** **Don't you ever, ever, ever, EVER scare me like that again!"**

She wrapped a wing around him, pressing him into her side. They stood there in shock, Hiccup gripping her hard, before the rush of emotions caught up with them. Sure they had almost died, but they had been _flying._ Really flying, together, up in the air and around the cove. No words could possibly describe the feeling of absolute freedom that she enjoyed, if only for the few seconds before things had begun to go badly wrong. Both their hearts were still beating fast, from the thrill of the flight or the fear from the crash, she couldn't say. Hiccup chuckled.

"Well, I guess we're going to need a new rope…"

He let go of her and hobbled off in the direction of the lake. He was trying to act annoyed, but she could tell from the smile on his face that he probably found the whole thing hilarious. Trust him to see a near death experience as just another joke.

"Was that really necessary, the licking? Next time, can't you have just, I don't know, used this water?"

As he bent over to wash his face, an evil smile spread across hers. He had his head down, completely oblivious to the world around him as he washed the last of the saliva off his face.

Maybe it was the adrenaline from the flight and the crash, maybe it was because he was so vulnerable, or maybe it was because there was something terribly unfair about her being soaking and him being dry. Regardless, she pounced, tackling Hiccup into the water. She lost her orientation as they rolled under the water. He broke the surface barley a second after her, apparently horrified. He splashed her with water and charged into her, with absolutely no effect whatsoever.

"Hey, no fair! I don't weigh several tons."

She laughed and picked him up, before dropping him back into the water and sending a tidal wave in his direction with one of her wings. He responded by jumping onto her back, where she couldn't reach him, despite thrashing like a maniac.

They laughed and rolled out of the lake, play-fighting the entire way. Every time Hiccup tugged on her ears, Astrid would lick his face until he let go. She would wrap him up with her wings, and he would tickle her soft underbelly, causing her to screech with laughter until he stopped.

As the day wore on, they built a fire and ate the fish, although Astrid let Hiccup have the eel. Hiccup ate his meal sat up against the dragon, who had curled up protectively around him, occasionally blowing his hair into his eyes as she breathed out. Before long, they were up again, and continuing with their battle. Astrid tried to lift him up with her head, but Hiccup scratched behind an ear and under her chin, hitting a nerve spot that caused her to collapse in bliss.

They continued on this way until both of them were exhausted, and lay down together by the fire, Hiccup safely wrapped up in Astrid's wings. Neither could say exactly what they were doing it, but both were perfectly happy, in that moment, to just enjoy being alive.

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 **If you don't review, that makes you a Gronkle. You don't _really_ want to be a Gronkle do you?**


	10. Chapter 10

'How to Train Your Dragon', along with your food, housing and job, belongs to the state. Long live Lenin!

 **So here it is guys, the nest chapter, and we've hit a few milestones so its time for some shout-outs! The 50th follower is '** The Burning Pillar' **who wins a metaphorical biscuit. The 50th Review came from** 'Silver Blue Eyed Wolf' **, who has also been very supportive in the past and I have been meaning to mention. You get the gift of worldly wisdom, and the power of imagination...**

 **Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has/will/is currently, reviewing or pressing that like and favourite button. Your support really does help me to keep going. To all of those who ask me not to abandon this story, let me say this. Too many times have I begun to read a really enjoyable and engaging story, only to see that it has been left for over a year and the author has moved on. I will _never_ abandon halfway through a story that I am writing.**

 **That said, the speed of my updates will decrease over this next week as I have things to be doing. To compensate, I have given you an even longer chapter. Enjoy, like, favourite, review, subscribe, copy, burn. Whatever you want.**

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Hiccup had always stayed up late, most nights, it was draw, to invent, or just to daydream. These days, he would be working in the forge or the tannery, making improvements to the tail that he had so kindly given Astrid. The tweaks and repairs were important, but they paled in comparison to his latest project. It had taken him a while to gather all the necessary material to make what he was planning. A full third of Berk's leather supplies had gone missing since he had started, as well as half the small supply of fine yew wood, and he was running out of room in his workshop to hide it all. Luckily, no one ever went directly into the chief's house, and the only person who ever went into the forge's storerooms was Gobber, who either didn't notice or didn't care. Hiccup had always been inventing and creating weird and wonderful failures, so what trouble was another one?

If his father had not been out searching for the nest, he would surely have been caught by now. His nightly disappearances would not have gone unnoticed, and the changes to the supplies would have been very suspicious, especially if there had been no dragon attack. Nothing happened on the island without his father knowing about it. As it happened, Spitelout didn't quite have the same eye for details, and blamed the disappearances without hesitation on the twins. Astonishingly enough, they admitted to taking it, despite having no recollection of ever having done so. He guessed that they had been smoking too much of that grass that Astrid liked.

It was just as well that Berk didn't have much need for leather, as everyone who was anyone used fur, wool, and pure Viking bloodlust to stay warm. Leather was seen as a needless accessory, only used for covering shields and wrapping round the handles of weapons.

But Hiccup wasn't working on a shield or a weapon. Every night when he crept out of his father's house, avoiding the night watchmen and drunken warriors staggering back to their home, he would travel to the forge. There, in the back room, he would continue to build what would eventually become a saddle. Sure, he had ridden on Astrid a few more time after their first flight, but the rope was just too imprecise, too primitive.

The saddle could be hooked up to the tailfin via a basic lever system, that he could adjust with a pedal on one of the stirrups. The pedal would control two spars that linked with the tailfin, controlling both its angle and the width of the fin during flight. If he was correct, it would allow him to control the tail perfectly whilst sitting facing forward on Astrid's back. He would just have to learn how to use it first.

Night after night he had worked in the forge, gluing strips of leather around a yew wood frame. Over time, it would dry, and each layer would bind to the next, until it gave him a hardened leather seat that was durable enough to withstand flight, but also light and flexible enough to be worn comfortably by a dragon.

It was by far the most complex invention he had ever seen through to the finish. Normally, he created powerful weapons that would use huge ropes, springs and counterweights to fire or fling a net at oncoming dragons. With the saddle, his world was getting ever smaller as he had to design and build a working gear system, complete with tiny metal 'teeth' that slotted into each other as the fin folded and unfolded. It was difficult, but it was much stronger and more reliable than any rope system.

The only time he normally worked on such a micro scale was when he was etching decorative patterns into metal weapons. He had thought about personalising and the saddle in some way, but forced himself not to. He could spend days decorating his work if he let himself get carried away, and he needed to finish the saddle as soon as possible. That said, it was almost complete, and the only thing he had left to do was hook up the tail to the stirrup mechanism. To do that however, he would need to take the saddle to the cove, and fit it directly onto Astrid.

He thought about her more and more these days, until it seemed like not a moment of his day wasn't spent looking forward to their meeting or reminiscing about the last one. For the first time in years, it felt like there was a reason to get up in the mornings, to go out and face the day. Despite all the training, smithing, bullying and generally being the worst Viking that Berk had ever seen, he knew that he would always find himself back in the cove, savouring every moment with his best and only friend. The fact that she was also one of the deadliest species of dragon ever to grace the Archipelago just made it even more amazing.

But, his late night sessions had come at a price. Working through the nights and the mornings was taking its toll on his natural rhythm. It had become the norm for him to stagger to the cove in the early afternoon, straight after training, exhausted. They would talk for hours on end, before he inevitably drifted off to sleep, Astrid wrapping him up like a giant, living bed, until the early hours of the morning, when he would head straight back to the forge. His real bed had hardly been used, as he had discovered that sleeping in the arms of an overly protective dragon was a lot warmer, and more comfortable.

He had begun to pay more attention to her dragon speech, and although he would never be able to speak it himself, he was confident that he could learn to understand her meaning. He already recognised her most common phrases, and could more often than not guess at what she was saying anyway.

Often, he would draw. He brought his sketchbook with him everywhere, and it was the perfect way to vent all of his thoughts and frustrations. Astrid would watch him. He would sit leaning against her, with her head alongside his, or sometimes on his lap. He would draw everything, the cove, the trees, the birds. Most of the time, he would draw Astrid.

The walls of his room were covered with pictures of her, both before and after her transformation, although there were significantly more of her as a dragon than a human. There were innumerable different poses and expressions: wings out or in, mouth open or closed, teeth bared or sheathed. Happy, angry, sad, impressed, unimpressed, annoyed, sleepy and sleeping, the variety was astonishing. In flight, on the ground or curled up in a ball, each drawing in of itself was a joy to behold.

Dotted around, in between the images of the Night Fury, were drawings of the human Astrid, still hung on his wall since before she had changed. He rarely looked at her old pictures, they just didn't seem that interesting anymore. They were just pictures of some girl, with no substance to back them up. There was no real life figure to compare it to, with all the wonderful little intricacies and oddities that so crucially combined to make one's character. He might have been obsessed with her when he drew them, but that was before, when he was craving acceptance or social contact of any kind. To him, the pictures of that beautiful blond teen were pointless, empty.

The pictures of the dragon, on the other hand, would be forever associated with the happy memories he'd had drawing them. Each picture told a story, like the time she had caught a small fish in the lake all by herself, or had climbed a tree and fallen asleep hanging from her tail like a bat, or even the time she had inhaled instead of blown the seeds off a dandelion, and had descended into uncontrollable sneezing. Hiccup had studied Astrid meticulously, and could quickly create a near perfect likeness of her sleek, aerodynamic form with nothing but a pencil and his memory. They were more than just charcoal markings on scraps of old paper, they were the physical embodiment of the happiest times of his entire life.

Now, there was someone in his life who did listen to him, who valued his thoughts and feelings more than the size of his muscles. There was someone who he could finally relate to, alone in a world where everyone was out to get them. They could sit and stare up at the stars together, feeling like they were the only ones in the entire world, or at least the only ones that mattered.

There was nothing that they couldn't share with each other. Hiccup finally had somebody he could unload all of his feeling onto, having kept them bottled up for his entire life. She heard everything. All the times he was beat down and made to feel worthless by his peers, all the times he was publically shamed and humiliated by his father, and all the times he tried desperately to improve his life, be it through inventions or friendship, only for his hopes to be crushed for the hundredth time.

Astrid had a surprising amount of emotional baggage as well. Considering she had represented the ideal Viking for such a long time. Her endless pursuit to regain her family honour and avenge her uncle, years of being objectified by the boys in the worst possible way, her personality outright ignored, her tortuous memories of her father coming home drunk and attacking her mother when she tried to defend the children.

Maybe being a Viking wasn't all there was to life after all. Both had spent their entire lives striving to be accepted by the Village, to be honoured as real Viking warriors and dragon slayers. And yet, in just a few short weeks, they had found in each other, all the love and acceptance that they could ever need. Their huge physical differences were a just minor obstacle in their relationship, because ultimately their hearts were in the right place. Hiccup could see it. Whenever he was about to fall asleep in her wings, exhausted after a night of forging and a day of brutal training, their eyes would meet. There was more than just friendship in that look. There was love.

* * *

Astrid's tail was wagging in anticipation of his arrival. Hiccup had told her that he had no training today, and so he would be up extra early to _finally_ fit her with the saddle. He had kept her updated every day with his progress. How well the glue was setting, how well the shape was forming, how well the pedals were working. The list of components just went on and on, but she had listened attentively, giving him feedback whenever she could.

It was criminal that he had been so thoroughly ignored by everyone all these years, herself included. His ability to think, invent and create had given her a new lease on life, and hope that she would one day escape the cove. Throughout their lives, Hiccup had always been reprimanded for his inventions. Inventing had never been seen as 'true' Viking pursuit, and as such his creations were deemed to be utterly useless, and that rubbed off on Hiccup a lot. He put his heart and soul into everything he built, and she wondered if he hadn't died a little on the inside every time they went horribly wrong, or his father destroyed them in front of everyone 'for the good of the village'. It was such a shame, for he truly was the most intelligent, caring and gentle Viking that Berk had ever seen. She only had to turn into a dragon to find out.

It never ceased to amaze her, not only how much raw talent he possessed, but how willing he was to use that talent to help her escape. No Viking in history had done what he had done, and she had a feeling that they were going to set another record today when they tried out the saddle for the first time.

She had completely conquered her dragon instincts when it came to him riding her. Whenever he climbed on top of her back, her feelings of fear and anxiety had been replaced with comfort and safety. The boy weighed practically nothing, and he had been so tired recently. Letting him ride on her back just seemed like the decent thing to do, and besides, he could always scratch her back in the places she never could reach. It was the little things like that which made his visits so pleasant and memorable. She could probably recall each and every stomach run that he had given her, if she tried.

Being a dragon wasn't easy, especially when she had grown up her entire life using her hands. Losing the ability to swing an axe, comb her hair, or even just eat without thrusting her head into a basket of fish were some of the most difficult things to come to terms with. For all her new found strength and power, losing her opposable thumbs had been painful, perhaps more than losing her ability to speak.

Hiccup made the whole ordeal bearable. He _was_ her hands, doing all of the tricky, intricate jobs that required five dexterous digits and fine motor skills, back rubs not excluded. He completed her, and made her life worth living once again. Alone, she was just an overgrown, flightless lizard, living in a hole in the forest. With his help, she became a warrior, a dragon, a friend.

She heard the distinctive rustling as Hiccup approached. She barked with happiness and trotted over to the gap in the cliffs where he normally emerged. She considered jumping out and ambushing him, but thought better of it. She wouldn't want to damage the saddle that he had crafted lovingly over so many cold nights. Still, she wanted to see him as soon as possible.

Her ears swivelled back around. She could hear something a lot larger than just Hiccup pushing through the forest. The rustling became louder. She perked up and listened harder, narrowing her eyes in concentration. Something was approaching rapidly, or more accurately, _somebody_. Judging from the faint voices that she could make out above the sound of movement in the undergrowth, she was being approached by Vikings. There was more than one person coming towards the cove, and that could only mean one thing. It wasn't Hiccup.

She darted back away from the cliffs. They were downwind, which meant that she couldn't smell them, and they were probably a lot closer than they sounded. She scanned the cove, desperately searching for somewhere a jet black dragon could hide in broad daylight.

The trees, on the far side of the lake. They were her best and only option. She sprinted round the water, faster than she had ever moved before. Her usual walking style was gone, replaced with a frantic series of leaps and jumps. Rather than move each of her paws individually, she powered forward with both her hind legs at the same time. She practically flew across the cove.

Her heart was in her mouth, adrenalin pumping through her veins and it wasn't just from the running. These were her people, her village, but they were also her enemies. If they found her they would not show mercy, not after years of brutal raids. She was willing to bet that whoever was coming had lost somebody they loved to the dragon menace, and she was the perfect target for their revenge. They would all see her as an animal, a beast, a prize.

The voices were on top of her now, in a few seconds, they would find the cove and find her. She had seen first-hand how captured dragons were treated. She could only imagine what they would do to a trapped Night Fury, judging from how brutally they normally killed the less dangerous species. If she did not find a place to hide, then it would be a fate worse than death.

She ran to the back of the trees, hoping that it would be enough to conceal her from the tops of the cliffs. It wasn't, the leaves on these trees had grown high up to catch the sun, and the only things between her and a painful death at the hands of her Village were a few naked trunks.

There was only one thing she could do. Baring her claws, she dug into the tough bark and began to climb the tree. Fuelled by panic and determination, she was able to claw her way up to the boughs in record time, not slipping once. She gripped the trunk tightly, all four of her paws firmly embedded in the wood. The tree bent slightly under the weight, but it was old and strong. It wouldn't break. Just as she reached the foliage, several figures emerged at the edge of the cove.

They were all men and women of Berk, axes and bows strung around their person. It was a hunting party, and a big one at that. She could hear them all, laughing and joking as they returned from a successful trip. She could smell the sour blood that covered some of their hands. From her awkward position, clinging to the other side of a tree, partially concealed by the twigs, leaves, branches and the other treetops, she could see most of them. They were clearly enjoying themselves, standing around laughing, looking into the cove, and throwing rocks into the lake.

They had probably been in the forest for several days, and were only now returning with their kill. Judging from the fresh scent of ale on their collective breath, they had begun the celebrations early. That was good, as it might distract them just enough not to seeing her. That said, if even one of them was paying any kind of attention to the treeline than she was doomed

She pressed herself harder against the tree trunk, trying to make herself as small as possible. It was a ridiculous camouflage. Her dark scales were meant to blend in with the night sky on a moonless night, not the dull greens and browns of early autumn. The only things that did fit the surroundings were her forest green eyes and Hiccup's new tailfin. Luckily, her side of the lake was still immersed in shadow, as the early morning sunlight had yet to reach all of the cove. It wasn't much, but she hoped that it was enough for the Vikings to overlook her. Human eyes were not as good as dragons' after all.

She stayed that way, quiet and unmoving for several minutes, although it felt like hours. Each agonising second that ground by increased the chances that she would be spotted. From up in the tree, she could see further over the top of the cliff than she could before. There were no fires or tents being set up, which meant they were not building a base camp. She breathed a long and steady sigh of relief. That meant that they were just stopping for a rest, and would likely move on shortly. They had strung up several deer on wooden shafts, carried on their shoulders, but there were also a mass of rabbits, hares, birds and other small game tied up in bundles and hanging from their belts.

Things must have been going well in the village for the hunting party to have been this big - there must have been at least a dozen. Fish was the primary source of food on Berk, and generally fishing was a much more efficient and reliable method of gathering food. Hunting might have been more enjoyable, and the meat of higher quality, but it could never support the entire population. Still, their haul was unusually large, especially for this part of the forest. They had reason to celebrate tonight.

Astrid found that she could focus her ears on specific individuals to hear what they were saying. She recognised some of it, but a lot of it was lost over the laughter and general chatter.

"Completely empty…. from one of the sailors myself…. not even close."  
"….not a single dragon? Maybe…. left us for good."

"You heard Stoick… fewer and fewer raids…. disappeared along with the Night Fury…"

"…hope so, finally…. Winter holiday in peace…"

"You can never be too careful…. until we find the nest."

Stoick must have arrived back from his hunt for the nest, but from the sounds of it, it had been unsuccessful. At the same time, it seemed that the dragon attacks were becoming rarer, and the Night Fury that had changed her was missing. She felt slightly sick as a mix of emotions washed over her. She was happy that the raids were not as bad as they once were, it was still her Village after all. At the same time, the Night Fury was nowhere to be found, and she needed to find him if she was ever going to walk as a human ever again. She felt a pang of homesickness, and once more thought about all she had lost. She screwed up her eyes and squeezed the tree even harder.

"This looks like a nice place to make a camp, for next time" boomed a familiar voice.

She immediately opened her eyes, and almost lost her grip when she saw who it was. There was no mistaking his clear, deliberate tone. The tone that she had grown used to almost every day of her life. There, standing upright on the top of the cliff, was her father, Angarr Hofferson. He was covered in deer's blood, but unlike the others, was not carrying any carcasses. He stood right at the edge, unafraid, peering into the cove with his quick, keen eyes. Despite being one of the smallest in the group, they all deferred to him as their leader, stepping out of his way and allowing him to pass freely around the edge of the cliff.

"There's fresh water, and look, I think I see a way in…"

She began to shake as he picked his way in between the rocks that served as the makeshift entrance. He burst through the gap in the cliffs and into the open, circling round to inspect the surroundings. Astrid loved and admired her father. The only surviving brother of Fearless Finn Hofferson, he was one of the greatest fighters of his generation. He didn't have the size or strength of a bear like Stoick, but his speed was unmatched. He had taught her how to fight with her uncle's axe. He had taught her to focus on agility and skill, allowing the enemy to make the first mistake before she delivered the final blow. When she had struggled, crying after being taunted by Snotlout and his cronies, he had held her small hands, and told her that being a girl did not make her any less of a fighter than he was.

She looked down at her paws, on the verge of tears. She wanted to run to him, for him to wrap his arms around her in his firm embrace, to tell her that he would always love her, no matter what. But none of that would ever happen again. He would never hold her hands, or teach her to fight, or even just _talk_ to her ever again. She was a demon, a monster, and there was no place for her in the Hofferson household. She clamped her dragon jaw around a branch to keep from sobbing. A small part of her had been in constant denial, ever since she had changed. The crushing reality of her new life had finally caught up to her, there, pitifully wrapped around a tree in the middle of the forest.

Angarr walked up to the lake, staring into the water, inspecting its quality. He frowned, and kneeled down on the shore, thrusting his hand into the water. The water was cold, and seeped through his clothes and into his skin. The water had not been warmed by the sun at the bottom of this sinkhole. He rummaged around for a few seconds before pulling his hand out again. There, clenched in his fist, was a small dagger, the fine steel still carrying a hint of the shine that it once had. Engraved along the length of the blade were two long thin serpents, wrapped around each other. He could make out the individual scales, carefully etched into each dragon's hide.

He stared at the beautifully crafted weapon, wondering whose it was and why it was left underwater in the middle of the forest. It was worn, but it was nothing that an hour of solid polishing couldn't fix. He slipped it into his belt, smiling for the first time in weeks. It was a sign. Maybe things were getting better for him after all.

He turned to leave, but an odd looking stone caught his eye. It was out of place, laying out in the open and not part of a larger boulder. It was not the placement that made curious, however. The stone was perfectly flat and round, and smooth to the touch, hard but not heavy. It was a deep black that seemed to absorb all of the light around it. He stared at it, unable to look away. His mind was working, trying to explain this oddly familiar texture and shape. He could have sworn that he had seen something like it before…

"Angarr."

He was snapped out of the trance by the voices of his comrades, ready to move on and back to Berk. He turned to leave, but thought better of it. He was missing something. He couldn't help the feeling that he was being watched. He pocketed the stone, but before he left, he took one last look around the cove, and wondered if there wasn't something hiding in the shadows…

* * *

Hiccup arrived slightly later than he had intended to. He had to avoid his idiotic peers and a group of hunters on their way back from another bloody success. It paid to be careful. Had anyone found him with the saddle and the basket of fish, it would have led to questions, and Hiccup always had been a terrible liar.

He crept into the cove with the saddle, as quietly as he could. He had no doubt that Astrid had already seen, heard or smelled him coming, but it amused him nonetheless. Anyway, Astrid had developed a habit of ambushing him whenever he arrived, jumping out on top of him and covering him with licks. He didn't really mind, it was more affectionate than the treatment his father had given him.

His father had arrived the night before, after an uneventful search for the nest. Normally, they would get attacked by a flock of dragons, before or after they hit the fogbank of Helheim's Gate. When that happened, they would fight for as long as they could before inevitably being forced back home, typically with a couple of ships fewer than they started with. This time, however, they had entered the fog and found nothing. No dragons, no nest, no glory. The only thing they found was Gobber's old ship that had been lost amongst the sea stacks many months ago. It had been hanging upside down from one of said stacks. It was strange that no one had even seen a dragon on this hunt, but then again, all the dragons seemed to be behaving differently these days, and nobody could explain why.

Stoick had been happy to see him alive at least. The dragon training had been going reasonably well. He was by no means the best, but he was managing to survive. With Astrid teaching him one or two sensitive spots for dragons, and with her no longer competing herself, he was actually doing better than anyone expected. That said, the expectations had been astronomically low to begin with.

Speaking of Astrid, she was nowhere to be found. He put his equipment down and scanned around, trying to spot that mischievous lizard. He checked all of her usual hiding spots, behind boulders, in small caves, even under the water of the lake. Hiccup looked around, trying to work out where she had gone. As far as he knew, she wasn't able to get out of the cove without his help, and nobody else knew that she was here. Unless…

"Astrid?" Hiccup called, his tone rising with a sense of panic.

"Astrid? ASTRID?"

There was silence. All he could hear was his voice echoing off the cliffs and fading away into the sky. He was perfectly still, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists in fear.

Suddenly, a tree shook violently and groaned. Looking closer, he saw that it wasn't a tree, but a sleek black and very distressed looking dragon. She slid down the tree trunk and landed hard at the bottom, rolling onto her back. She scrambled to get upright, and slowly padded over to Hiccup, moaning as she did so.

Hiccup still couldn't communicate perfectly with Astrid, but he had learned what a lot of her calls and noises meant. In this case however, even to bystander, it was obvious that she was expressing sadness. Sadness and pain. Hiccup immediately took her head in his arms. He could feel heavy jolts as she began to sob.

"Hey, hey. It's okay, I'm here. I'm here for you. Don't worry, I won't let go."

She pulled her head away from him slightly, and wrote shakily on the ground.

 **I'M A DRAGON**

Her legs gave way and she collapsed on the ground, moaning and sobbing even harder. Hiccup knew what had happened. She had finally come to accept that she was a dragon, and most likely would stay one. A winged, four legged lizard of the night. A fire breathing, blood drinking, inhuman beast who had been their tribe's enemies for generations. He had a feeling that this was coming. She had been far too relaxed about her transformation, especially considering how much she seemed to hate dragons before. This entire time, she had been bottling up all of her deepest fears, and that bottle was now full.

She had been hit hard with the crushing truth, so Hiccup did the best he could to be a friend, and give her a shoulder to cry on. He sat down with her, and wrapped his arm around her huge neck, letting her cry out as much of the sadness he could. She was babbling something, and he tried his best to understand, but all he could pick up was the emotion behind her roars, grunts and cries. _Pain, hate, anger, hate, sadness, pain, sadness, pain._ Hiccup, who had never in his life been relied on to comfort someone, and who had never cared about anyone so much before, was heartbroken.

He wished there was something he could do, a way that he could help share her burden so that she didn't have to suffer alone. He laid a gentle hand on her head, and took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to comfort her in her time of greatest unhappiness. He took a deep breath, and spoke softly and deliberately.

"Astrid, I know this is hard for you. You feel like you have lost everything, your home, your family, your life…"

Astrid groaned slightly louder when he said that, but he wrapped his arm tighter around her neck and continued.

"The Village might not see it, but over these past weeks, I have found the most wonderful amazing person that I have ever met. You might not see it, you're the strongest of us all, Astrid. You have suffered more than any Viking in history, and yet here you are, determined to make it through and keep your humanity where others would fall into madness."

She had calmed down slightly. He shifted round in front of her and kneeled down, leaning right up to her slumped head. He took her paws in his hands, and looked deep into her eyes.

"Astrid, it doesn't matter that the others don't recognise you for who you really are. I do, and I am here for you. You are the greatest friend that I have ever had, and it doesn't matter, it had never mattered what you look like. Who cares what you are? It's _who_ you are that matters. Things seem bad now, but they will get better, I promise you it will all turn out okay."

He took a deep breath and held her head in his trembling hands.

"As long as I have you and you have me, it will always be okay. Look, no matter what happens, whatever we do from now on, I will support you."

Her sobbing had almost stopped, and she had the strength to meet his eyes.

"Astrid, no matter what happens, I love you, and I will always be there for you."

She still looked unbearably sad, but upon hearing those three words, she lifted up her head, and her mouth formed a wide toothless grin. She gave Hiccup the biggest lick she had ever given him, and warbled at him before leaning into his embrace. Hiccup didn't need to be a dragon to understand her. Love was a universal emotion, and she had just given him hers.

* * *

 **For every review that I get, I will include another sentence worth of adorable Hiccstrid fluff.**


	11. Chapter 11

The How to Train Your Dragon franchise belongs exclusively to Smaug the defiler, the fire drake from the Northern wastes.

 **So here it is. I'm very sorry for not updating this past week, but I was finishing a few things that absolutely needed to be finished. Also, my internet connection is utterly abysmal. Seriously, I could get better connection in the Federal States of Micronesia. I'm still following the 'never give up' policy for this story, so don't worry, I won't abandon it.**

 **Anyway, I'll be updating slightly less than I did at my 'peak', but the updates will be longer to compensate. Also, keep an eye out for rewrites of chapters 1 and 2 in future. I'm also looking for a Beta reader if anybody is at all interested, so feel free to PM me if you happen to be a professional writer or just really love HTTYD.** **Its funny, I fill _one_ chapter with nothing but Hicstrid fluff, and I get the most reviews out of any chapter that I've done. Maybe next time I'll just do a solid 100k words chapter with nothing but endless feeling and emotion. Oh well, the people have spoken! ****A lot of things happen in this chapter, so try and keep up everyone.**

 **Anyway, on with Chapter 11**

* * *

Astrid broke through the high, thin layer clouds with ease as she soared over the mountain tops. With every breath, her lungs filled with biting, yet refreshingly cold air. The sun was directly overhead, and at this altitude, bathed her back with an intense, focused heat. Above the obstructions of the clouds, the trees and the cove, it seemed impossibly large. From this new perspective, it was easier to understand how its life-giving warmth could envelop every part of the archipelago at once.

She could see impossibly far out to sea, where for a moment the clouds had parted to reveal an infinite expanse of deep blue. Below her, a bottomless well stretched out for as far as the eye could see, eventually curving away and down, as if cresting an invisible hill. She had heard stories of what was beyond the horizon. Vast and fertile new lands, filled with strange people and cultures. Small towns and villages, ripe for plunder or conquest. Relics and ruins of an ancient and powerful empire, its legacy and prestige destroyed by the very people it had enslaved. Some said that by sailing for long enough, you would reach the end of the world, and depending on the direction, Helheim or Valhalla. She had never believed those stories, and yet they fascinated her, awaking some deep, unknown desire to travel and explore, and grow her understanding about life and the world.

Her teeth slowly sheathed themselves, a huge grin spreading across her mouth. Now, she could explore the world for herself, test the boundaries and investigate the stories like no Viking in history. She was free. Free from that stifling cove, where she hardly had enough room to stretch her wings. Free from the threat of her village finding and torturing her in revenge for actions that were not her own. Free from the constant pressure and expectation to succeed, to regain her family's honour, to be the best dragon slayer in her generation. Floating on the edge of thermals, miles above the petty squabbles and grudges of the Viking way of life, she felt truly liberated. When she took off, she hadn't just left behind the ground, she left behind all of the pain and misery of the last few weeks.

The sensation of flying was incredible. Sure, she had flapped around before, but she had never really _flown_ before. The sudden rush of excitement and fear that came with her first few attempts and crashes were nothing compared to the majesty as she sat on top of the world, beyond the reach of everyone but the gods themselves. The sound of the air, whistling past her ear flaps. The minor adjustments she instinctively made to deal with gentle gusts of wind and air pressure. The feeling of cool wind caressing her scales, filling up her wings and her tongue flapping wildly as she let it hang out of her mouth. It was glorious, and it was all thanks to him.

She turned her head to look at him, crooning with simple, unbound happiness. His hair was whipped back and forth, along with his loose sleeves and fur coat. His eyes were slit against the rushing air and beating sun, and he was crouched low against the saddle and her back, siphoning as much of her warmth as he could. Despite dragons clearly more suitable to flying than humans, she had the feeling that Hiccup was enjoying it even more than she was, as he let out an unintelligible cry of elation.

The saddle had worked perfectly. It was not too tight, and didn't restrict her movement. She could beat her wings for hours and it would never rub or ache. The leather was slightly padded, and the shape wrapped comfortably around her thick torso. It was like wearing a solid blanket on her back, and she was grateful for it.

It didn't seem to affect her flying performance. It was light enough not to weigh her down and sap her strength, but sturdy enough to withstand the stress of difficult manoeuvres when airborne. The tail assembly was linked to a pedal on the saddle that Hiccup worked with his feet. Whilst she didn't know exactly how it worked, she was confident that she could rely on it to work every single time.

That boy was amazing. He must have taken all the measurements in the cove and then custom built it to an exact specification. It was the greatest gift she had ever received, never had somebody invested so much time and effort into something for her to wear. It was like he knew exactly what each part of her body would operate once in the air, and designed it to be as pleasant as possible for the dragon. The fact that he weighed essentially nothing was just an added bonus. She felt tingling feeling in the pit of her stomach, and it wasn't just from flying.

"Ok bud, let's see how this thing holds up under some speed."

He pushed the pedal forward, gears shifting and pulling the tailfin closed slightly. Her fin matched his, and as expected, they nosed down towards the ground in a steep dive. She flattened her ears and pulled in her legs tight. Her wings folded in slightly, giving her just enough control to decide on the direction they were headed. After all, a dive was just a controlled fall.

The air pressed against them harder, rushing past at an astonishing rate as they turned their hard won altitude into greater and greater speed. Hiccup clung to Astrid's back, making himself seem somehow even smaller. All of her senses focused in on their destination, a huge, rocky arch that jutted out from the cliffs. Even from such a great height, she could clearly make out the sharp, irregular stone pillars that would tear her scales open if she so much as brushed against them.

They were going dangerously fast now, faster than she had ever gone before. The ground was rapidly approaching, and if she spun out of control there would be no second chances for either of them.

For all the praise she had given her new tailfin, now was the point when it needed to work, perfectly. They had travelled a mile in a matter of seconds, and her vision was beginning to blur around the edges. There was a very real possibility that at this speed her wings could dislocate and even rip off, if she put enough stress on them. She was a heavy dragon, after all. Her momentum was downright terrifying.

"Ok, here goes nothing!" Hiccup shouted over the rushing wind.

He eased the pedal back, the tailfin spreading out and angling upwards slightly. Expecting the move, she spread her fin a little bit faster, causing them to buffet from side to side until she slowly stretched out her wings to their fullest. They gently pulled up from the dive, finishing parallel to the ground, but there was essentially no change in their speed.

Dragon and rider shot through the gap, with barely a wing-length to spare. Seagulls jumped to get away, as the deadly Night Fury blew past. They were so low now that spray from the ocean soaked her underside. She eyed a school of fish that she could see circling just below the water line. Her eyes were adept at seeing past the sun's glare and under the water, and her principle diet was fish, so maybe…

"Okay, Up Up Up!"

Hiccup's voice brought her back to reality as they tilted back and climbed almost straight up. They had maintained the speed of the dive, and they laughed and shouted hysterically as they were carried back up into the air with seemingly no effort at all. Their speed was dropping, however, so just before they stopped entirely, Astrid began to beat her wings. Each powerful stroke brought them closer and closer to the clouds. She could feel the blood coursing through her veins as she laboured to gain altitude. Her nostrils flared as her breathing quickened, gasping for enough air to continue the fight against gravity. Her wings and shoulders burned, the flapping getting slower and slower. She could feel and acute pain in her lungs, as they sucked in and out impossibly fast. She was not ready for this, she was still too weak and inexperienced. A completely vertical climb was no easy feat. As usual, she was pushing herself too hard, and eventually, something would give way.

They disappeared into the clouds, barely moving at all. A few seconds later, they reappeared, falling out of the bottom and plunging towards the ground. Astrid's wings had cramped and folded up under the strain, and she lost all control. There was no controlling this descent. She twisted and spun as she fell helplessly through the air. Hiccup's shouts of joy turned to screams of fear when he realised that neither of them were in control. The only thing that was keeping the rider from being torn out of the saddle was the small length of leather rope that he had hooked around his belt.

"Ahh, Astrid? Astrid! ASTRID!"

She was panicking now, desperately trying to stretch out her wings enough to save them both. She grit her teeth and tensed her shoulder muscles as hard as she could. She cried out in agony as the cramp just got worse, her wings twitching and jolting uncontrollably. She was an idiot. She had tried to overwork herself on their first real flight, and now she had killed them both. Her stupid arrogance, to think that she would be able to pull off such a tiring and skilled move as a vertical climb with only a few hours of flight time.

She wailed in frustration at the unfairness of it all, her cries mixing in with Hiccup's. She had only just escaped from the cove, and now she was going to die, smashed off the side of a mountain or straight into the sea. They were plummeting down, quicker and quicker, and there was nothing she could do about it, not even with her own wings. She closed her eyes and stopped trying to control her body. She could feel death approaching. At least it would be quick.

But it was not to be. By letting go of her body, Astrid had once again let allowed her dragon instincts to take over. Her wings slowly, painfully unfurled, stretching out to their full width as the cramp eased off. The pain in her shoulders started to cool off, and when Astrid opened her eyes, shocked to see that she hadn't died, she glanced from side to side and saw her wings fully stretched out. Unfortunately for her, they were angled vertically, not slowing them down at all. They were extremely low now, below the mountain tops. She risked a look downwards. They would hit the treeline in a few seconds. She took a deep breath quickly uttered a prayer to the Gods.

" **Hiccup, I hope you know what you're doing!"**

Her wings twisted down, and took all of the strain of a several ton dragon traveling at near terminal velocity, all at once. Her wings were nearly ripped from their sockets as they skimmed along the tops of the trees, screaming for all they were worth. The pain was excruciating, but she held on, slowing down just enough to pull away from the mountain and straight towards a labyrinth of rocks and stone pillars at a terrifying speed. There was no avoiding it, they would have to fly straight through the middle.

In the narrow spaces and tight turns of the rocks, the tailfin was essential. There could be no sudden or quick turns without it. There was only one person in the world who could operate her tailfin, and he was sat on top of her. As they entered the maze of boulders and cliffs, she trusted Hiccup to know where to take her. She let him be in charge. He chose the pedal positions and she matched every one, throwing her weight into every turn. She hardly had time to think. All she could do was focus on her tailfin and follow the steering. They swerved left and right, rolling and diving to avoid the razor sharp rocks. They were unstoppable, not a scratch on her hide as she surged through, totally focused on her flying. Her mind was racing. In that single moment, the only things that existed were her, the rider, and the obstacles in front of them.

The entire ordeal must have only lasted a few seconds, but in that time she pulled off difficult manoeuvres of her life. The tightest turns, the quickest rolls, the sharpest dives. As they burst out of the fog bank and back into the open air, they couldn't help but cheer, out of relief, excitement, happiness, she couldn't tell. They were both shaking ever so slightly as adrenaline still pumped through their veins. She could hardly believe it, she had survived? Less than a minute ago, they were both facing certain death, and here they were, laughing it off. It was exhilarating, like nothing she had ever felt before. She roared in celebration, feeling something built up deep within her chest. Hiccup was shouting at the top of his voice.

"YEAH, this is amazing! Wait what… Oh no"

With absolutely no idea what she was doing, Astrid launched a bright blue fire-bolt. It shot out in front of them and exploded with an intense flash, before dissipating into a ball of smoke that they flew right into. Hiccup hacked and choked as a bucketful of smoke was forced into his lungs. She could feel the vibrations as the couching racked his fragile body.

She felt intensely guilty. She'd had no intention to shoot fire, and it had happened before she had even realised. This was the first time she had ever done so outside of her dreams. She wondered if she might have ruined a perfect moment, just a little bit. Hiccup was recovering from his ordeal, and was beginning to laugh again at the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Well… I didn't know you could do that!"

 **"** **Neither did I** "

"I guess we still have a lot to learn, but still. WE'RE ALIVE!"

* * *

It was late in the day by the time they decided to head back to the cove. Streaks of red and gold coloured the sky, shooting up from the horizon as the sun sank lower and lower in the western sky. Gently gliding above the cliffs, Astrid couldn't help but stare. Her dragon eyes were more sensitive to colour than those she was born with, and this sunset was like nothing she had ever seen. She could focus in on clouds, miles away from her, hanging lazily in the air. Light and dark fought for control as the warm pink glow on the underside was matched by creeping shadows on the top. They seemed beyond reproach, suspended halfway between the vibrancy of day and the peaceful calm of night. It was almost romantic.

Maybe she had become more sentimental since she had become a dragon, but gazing up at what could well have been the last light of the summer, she felt… serenity. She had come to terms with her new being. What she was before, and what she had become now were worlds away from each other. She couldn't question why, or how, no answers would ever come. She had tried numerous times to reach out to the Gods whilst she was trapped in the cove. The silence spoke for itself. Whatever her purpose was, whatever the reason for her transformation, she would have to work it out for herself.

Well, maybe not _all_ by herself. She turned and looked at the boy riding on top of her. He too was looking out to sea, absorbing as much of the view as he could before the day forever disappeared over the horizon. A light wind blew his hair around his face, obscuring her view. She didn't care. If there was one thing that she had learned during her ordeal, it was that looks meant nothing. Before, Hiccup had been the weakest, skinniest, most useless Viking she had ever met. But now, to her, he was the most thoughtful, considerate and downright kind person she had ever met. He hadn't changed all that much, she had just learned to pay attention and listen to what he was actually saying.

He saw her as more than a dragon, even before he knew it was her. Despite everything he had been raised to believe, all the hatred that had been hammered into every child in Berk, including her, he still looked into her eyes, and saw something more than a trophy. Hell, the dragons had killed his mother, and yet he wasn't driven by revenge. Hiccup must have been the only Viking in history not to bear a grudge. It was astonishing. He was astonishing.

It was clear now. She was in love with him. It might have crept up on her ever since he started to visit the cove, or it might have jumped on her in the last few days. Whatever the case, she was now hopelessly attached to the awkward little son of the chief. He loved her back, he always had, and that much was obvious. For everything that he had done for her, it was immensely satisfying to finally give something back, even if that something was just the love of a lonely, confused dragon-girl who until recently was having serious issues with her appearance. She had been a Viking, and she had been a dragon, but at the same time, she was neither. She could never go back to the way she was, and she could never become totally feral. She was unique, a bizarre mix of enemies that didn't fit in anywhere. Anywhere apart from with Hiccup, that was. She could be whatever she chose to be, and that gave her great comfort. She felt, perhaps for the first time in her life, that she was in control of her own destiny.

"It really is something, isn't it?" Astrid purred as he stroked the back of her head. "I never would have thought that we would one be able to do this, any of this." He gestured around at nothing in particular. "I mean look at us, I still can't believe that we're actually _flying_ ". She crooned in agreement, and twisted her head round further so that he could scratch under her chin. "I know, I know. I love you too, now let's get back to the cove, I'm not ready to fly at night just yet."

She snorted, and started to flap towards land. He always seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. It was probably for the best, after all, communication was always the key to a functioning relationship…

Suddenly, her ears perked up, and started to scan around her. She could hear a faint whistling noise, slowly getting louder. She looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. It was coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. She began to feel uncomfortable, and dropped in altitude to the level of the cliffs. The noise was getting louder now. It was deeply unsettling, evoking memories of chaos and destruction, burning houses and dead relatives. It was rising in pitch and volume, like an arrow shaft that flew over one's head, even her rider's human ears could hear it now.

"Hey, Astrid, how are you making that noise?" He shouted over the now unbearable scream that had them both covering their ears.

A flash of light, and the rock face next to them exploded. Hiccup was almost ripped out of his seat as the shockwave threw them into a spiral. He frantically worked the pedals, and Astrid flapped hard to level out. A shadow flew by overhead at an impossible speed.

"What in Odin's name, WAS THAT?"

She scoured the darkening sky above them, searching for whatever had just attacked them. She saw movement in the corner of her eye, and just caught a glimpse of black and scale, disappearing into the clouds. It was a fraction of a second, but those wings, that explosion, that piercing scream… She knew exactly what they were up against.

 **"** **Oh gods, no…"**

She beat her wings, powering up through the clouds after their opponent. The sun was all but gone now, and the tops of the clouds shone silver in the light of a pale full moon. Her night vision was superb, but she still had trouble picking out the midnight-black hide against the coming night. It dived again, from an even greater height. The whistling could be heard once again, as a pinprick of blue hurtled towards them at a steep angle, at a seemingly impossible speed.

Hiccup followed her lead as she turned tightly into the attack, too sharply and too quickly for their assailant to adjust his aim or follow them altogether. It was somehow even more terrifying to hear it scream by just over their heads, and disappear into the clouds once again. There was a dull boom as a blue flash lit up the inside of one of the clouds.

"Was that… Was that another Night Fury?"

He had finally realised. It was another child of lightning and death itself, and by the looks of things, it was very, very angry. There was a faint rush of air behind them, one that only her ears could detect. She twisted her head from side to side, trying to get a good view of the dragon behind her. There, high above and behind her, it was bearing down on them, twice as fast as they were.

She froze when she met the demon's eyes. She could never forget those eyes, burning with anger and determination, and, in hindsight, perhaps a hint of sadness as it clamped down on her shoulder and twisted her body into that of a Night Fury. It was the same male that had turned her on that dreaded night; the same male that had corrupted her mind and turned her against her own, the same male that wanted to take her back to its nest and mate with her. She could feel the fear she had felt that night, the utter hopelessness as it pinned her down with his its incredible weight and sunk its teeth into her flesh. But back then, she had just been a girl.

Now, she was a dragon.

She folded her wings, dropping below the male Night Fury, before quickly spreading them again, killing almost all of her speed. He shot over her head, missing his target once again. On an impulse, she opened her mouth and clenched her chest. She could feel an intense heat building up deep within her. The first time it had been an accident, but now she knew exactly what she was doing. She kept track of the male, who had pulled into a hard left turn to come back at her. A faint whistling could be heard as more and more flames gathered in the back of her throat. She had no idea how fire breathing worked, but she knew that her species had the deadliest, most powerful blast of all the dragons.

The heat was unbearable now, but she was committed. The whistling grew louder and louder as the fire grew within her. She pointed her head in the direction of the Night Fury and fired. The fireball streaked across the night sky, fiercely bright against the starry night sky. It burst just in front of his face, completely throwing him off balance, and sending him plummeting through the cloud layer. She dived after him. She would make him pay for what he had done to her.

The male Night Fury was circling down low, and came to rest on a thin sea stack that jutted out from a cliff on the edge of Berk, a narrow stretch of coarse grass and loose rocks connected it with the mainland. She recognised it as the place where she and seven generations of Viking teens before her had camped out to get away from the troubles of their stifling village life to camp, hang out, romance or just look up at the stars. To her people, it was known as Raven's Point.

The wind was beginning to pick up now. As the night had fallen, a storm had slowly blown in from out at sea. Above the clouds, it had been serene and peaceful, but below, the first, fat drops of rain were falling. It was totally dark now. The moon and the stars had been covered up long ago, and the sun was a distant memory. The only pinpricks of light came from Berk, visible from the point, but these too started to dwindle as the citizens bolted their doors and windows against the coming weather.

The sea hammered against the rocks as Astrid dove down after him. The he was standing, alert and ready, watching as she descended to his level. She could feel the stone pillar beneath her shudder as she landed heavily, directly opposite the male. Raven's Point had always been weak, ready to collapse at the slightest provocation. She wasn't sure that it could take the weight of two large dragons and withstand the assault of the wind, rain and waves.

The spray from the tallest waves coated them with a fine salty mist, which was quickly washed off by an ever increasing volume of rain. The noise was incredible; the wind tugging at the trees, the sea hammering against the rocks, the ominous echo of thunder, booming out to sea. They would not have long on this rock, the worst was yet to come.

 **"** **What are you doing, I am trying to help you!"** The male hissed, more annoyed than angry. He seemed unphased by Thor's growing wrath.

 **"** **Help me? You cannot help anyone or anything you MONSTER!"** For the first time, Astrid had a way to focus all of her rage and anger that had been accumulated throughout the past weeks. She would be damned if she let him get away without just vengeance.

 **"** **I am sorry, you are right to feel wronged. I should never have left you that night. I thought… I thought you had perished like the last of our kind."**

 **"** **What?"**

 **"** **I looked for you, truly I did. For almost a moon I searched far and wide. If I had known that these** ** _beasts_** **had captured you, I would have come sooner."**

 **"** **What are you talking about, you attacked me!"** Astrid didn't know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't this. She was unprepared for the Night Fury's apologetic nature and sadness.

 **"** **You? No, I attacked the slave master, that…** ** _Viking_** **on your back."** He spat the words out with utter contempt. By the looks of things, he was ready to attack the small boy sat awkwardly on the dragon's back, trying not to be noticed.

"Uh, Astrid. I think we should leave before he-"

 **"** **SILENCE CREATURE"** the dragon roared, cutting Hiccup off. **"You shall enslave her no longer! She is free to come with me back to the nest, and I will bring the Mother your head as a gift."**

 **"** **Nobody, talks to** ** _MY_** **Hiccup that way."** Her voice was dripping with venom and hate. **"You took me, and took away** ** _EVERYTHING_** **that I had. My home, my family, my mind…"** Her voice cracked **"My Humanity."**

 **"** **My love, what are you saying…?"**

 **"** **I am Astrid of Berk, daughter of Vara and Angarr Hofferson. My loyalty lies with them and with Hiccup, so don't you EVER call me 'love'."**

Astrid was shaking now, the rush of emotions almost overwhelming her. The storm was almost on top of them now, and every word had to be shouted or roared to be heard over the wind. Lightning struck just a few miles out at sea, and the thunder followed barely a second behind. The sea stack groaned under the stress, the thin pillar crumbling under the weight. The male's eyes slit, full of murder. His voice was deep and sinister, his tone threatening.

 **"** **Oh, I see. You are yet to find your way. Getting captured by the humans has made you think that you are one. They have given you memories of a life you were not supposed to have. You can NEVER go back, understand me? Your place is with me, the greatest of all kin, to rule over the nest.**

 **"** **You can't force me to do anything! Change me back to my true self and be done with it."**

 **"** **DO NOT challenge that which you do not understand. This** ** _is_** **your true self."** He suddenly calmed, laughing loudly like he had just remembered an old joke, or perhaps he was just mocking her. He continued, smirking menacingly.

 **"** **It matters not what you think. Soon, before the first snow of winter falls, the entire nest will sally forth, and crush your pitiful village and all your** ** _Viking_** **friends. I will bring before the mother personally, and she will show you the way."**

He took a few paces forward, and Astrid tensed up, on instinct pressing herself low to the ground to protect her underbelly. Lightning struck the sea stack next to them with a deafening roar, and it crumbled from the bottom up, sinking below the black waves in a thousand tiny pieces. She could feel the vibrations as massive waves hammered into the rocky pillar below them. Raven's Point was on the brink of collapse.

The male walked right up to her, calm and collected. He leaned down by her ears, close enough to feel his hot breath, to catch his warm, powerful scent despite the furious wind. He spoke softly in her ear, but there was no mistaking the threat in his voice. She could hear every word as clear as day, even over the screaming gale.

 **"** **Make no mistake. When the time comes, I will find you. I will force feed you your** ** _Hiccup_** **whilst he still breathes, and I will drag you back to the nest. You will have my hatchlings, and if you object… Well, I heard that its fairly painless process when the Mother takes your mind away from you. It will certainly be a challenge for me, it's been a while since I've started from scratch with an empty husk…**

Astrid was shaking now, her eyes pressed firmly shut, from instinct or fear, she couldn't tell. The male pressed his snout into the nape of her neck, breathing deeply. His presence, his warmth, his _smell_. It awoke part of her brain that she didn't know she had, a part that wanted him. There was a deep, primal urging within her, an urge to submit to his strength, to lift her tail and let him climb on top of her. There was no mistaking it now, she was absolutely terrified. He pulled away, leaving her a pitiful, subdued wreck.

 **"** **I will remember your scent for when I return. It is quite an unusual mixture; fear, anger, lust. You would have been perfect, do you know that? I could have loved you, if only you had seen the light."**

With that, he took off into the night, disappearing into the darkness as a bolt of lightning exploded in front of her. She screamed, flapping wildly as the stone pillar beneath her feet was ripped apart by the elements. Hiccup worked the pedals as hard as he could, struggling to give the panicking and temporarily blinded dragon a direction to fly in. The wind did most of the work for them, carrying up over the cliffs and into Berk.

* * *

Hiccup lit a small lamp, hanging it from a hook on the ceiling. Normally, his drawing room was barely big enough for him, but he had moved most of the boxes of equipment up to his room, allowing the dragon to squeeze in and curl up into a ball. He was not worried about waking his father. The storm was loud enough on its own, but his father's thunderous snoring was causing the house to vibrate. There was no chance that they would be heard, and Stoick never went into Hiccup's drawing room anyway.

"Astrid. Astrid are you okay?"

The Night Fury hid her face with her wings, sobbing quietly under her personal, natural blanket. Hiccup gently pulled back the leathery covers, revealing her distressed, scaly face.

"Hey, its okay, I'm here. I won't leave you, remember? You're safe now."

Hiccup lay a large, blank piece of paper on the floor in front of her, along with a pot of ink. He took her large head in his hands and stared deep into her eyes. He took a deep breath and pressed his forehead against hers, feeling the warm, smooth scales against his damp hair. She calmed down immediately, the crying almost stopped entirely. Whatever that dragon had said or done, it wasn't good. He had seen the way it had pressed up against her, and spoken softly in her ear. He had a feeling that it was a male Night Fury, and that could only mean one thing.

"Astrid, tell me everything."

* * *

 **So how was that then my minions? Let me know what you think about our new dragon friend in the reviews, or anything else that takes your fancy. Politics, the environment, the velocity of a coconut laden swallow. Review and let me know!**


	12. Chapter 12

"How to Train Your Dragon" was captured by Timur the Lame in the late 14th century, and he still legally owns the rights.

 **So I've got myself a weekly schedule to write by. I can't do it as often as I used to because I now have other commitments. Don't worry, I'm not leaving you. Also, I just want to quickly say one thing. I have no idea how big 'Raven's Point' is supposed to be, but in my story, it is what it is. Don't fight it, just let I happen. I will be taking this story in an interesting direction soon that you might not be expecting. Stick around to find out what happens next (shameless self promotion)!**

 **Thank you to all those who reviewed, we are close to 100 now and the 100th reviewer will receive an extra special surprise! (maybe). Slam that review button and maybe you could be that lucky winner.**

* * *

First light brought with it an unwelcome chill the following morning. Thick banks of grey cloud lurked as a testament to the hellish night before, coating the island with a fresh sense of misery that came with the passing of every summer. Puddles had formed around the base of every soaked trunk and bush. The path was muddier than usual, and at time it felt like he was wading through a bog rather than walking through the forest. Those trees that had survived the terrifying force of the wind stooped low, bending under the weight of a thousand tiny pockets of water trapped in the leaves. A good number of heavy, fat drops fell on Hiccup's head and neck, freezing in the cool morning air as he made his way back from the cove.

After waiting out the worst of the storm, they both decided it would be best if Astrid returned to her new home, in order to avoid certain capture. There was no real way to hide the most wanted beast in Berk inside the house of the chief. It was just good common sense to keep his best friend away from perhaps the most infamous dragon-slaying tribe in History, especially when that friend was the most highly sought after dragon in the Archipelago. Sneaking her out of the village after one of the worst storms of the year had been fairly easy. What came next would be the hardest part of all, but it was also the most essential to their plan.

Hiccup would have to speak to his father, Stoick the Vast.

The time had come for him to know what was going on, why his son had been running off to the forest every day and what really happened to Astrid. Whatever came next, they would need the help and support of the entire tribe, or at least the support of Stoick, who could force them to co-operate. The future of Berk depended on Hiccup being able to convince the chief that Astrid was a friend.

She had told him everything the night before, as they sat huddled together in the tiny room, trying to warm up and dry off as nature continued its merciless assault on their forsaken island. It would have been ironic to have died of exposure to the elements, having just survived an aerial battle between two extremely angry and extremely powerful dragons. Hiccup had witnessed the entire meeting, after all.

He had been totally unable to interpret what the other Night Fury – a male, Astrid had told him – had been saying. His meaning, however, was fairly obvious, considering how Astrid had responded, from the initial anger to the fear and trauma as they fled the collapsing rock. Some of the things the Night Fury had said, it was astonishing. Astrid had been able to understand him, clear as she could understand Hiccup, when he threatened to feed him to her, her only friend in the world, and carry her back to 'the nest' for mating rites. No wonder she was traumatised. Transforming into a creature that you've been raised from birth to hate is bad enough, but this… It was barbaric.

But that wasn't all. According to Astrid's translation, the Night Fury had threatened to destroy Berk utterly. Apparently, the entire nest of dragons would attack together to remove the Viking menace once and for all. The 'Mother' had willed it. Recently, the dragon attacks had been getting lighter and lighter, and the Night Fury hadn't been spotted for weeks. It was possible, unlikely as it was, that the dragons were intelligent enough to form a strategy. They could have been building up, consolidating their forces for a final, devastating attack.

For all of Berk's dragon-fighting ability, Hiccup doubted that they would survive if the entire race of hellish beasts descended upon them in a single, bloody strike. Dragons were not like Vikings. They were not tied to the land through farming and housing. They did not care about the seasons, the harvest or the Gods. They could cross in hours great seas that could take days for a longboat to sail, even in the best wind conditions. They were airborne spectres of death, whose only purpose on the Earth was to attack, rob and kill his people.

The only thing that had kept the Village standing so long was humanity's superior intelligence. A Monstrous Nightmare could easily best a Viking in solo combat, but add in armour, a shield, a tough steel sword or axe, and a bottle of his or her favourite mead, and the battle suddenly became much less one-sided. Dragons, rarely attacked with a complex plan or strategy, preferring to cause as much random chaos and damage as possible, and taking advantage of whatever opportunities presented themselves to carry off food. It was fairly easy for a lone creature to get separated from the pack and surrounded by Berk warriors. A few burley Vikings, an everyday fishing net, and a quick knock to the head with a hefty war-hammer, and there would be one more dragon in the arena for training. No matter how many times the beasts came to pillage and steal, they were always out-thought and out-manoeuvred. The combination and effective use of; catapults, nets and solid troop formations, meant that the dragons often left with more casualties per raid than their 'inferior' prey.

That was, until something had started destroying the catapults and defensive towers, and breaking up the ordered formations with its piercing scream. The Night Fury didn't come on every raid, but when it did, there was a marked difference in the dragon's behaviour. It only came on black moonless nights, in the small hours before dawn, much later than the typical raids. On those dreaded nights, the watch was doubled, and beacons were prepared to light up the sky at a moment's notice, but preparation could only take them so far. Under the direction of the Night Fury, the devils would sneak into the village in dead silence, hugging the shadows and avoiding the sky. They would quickly steal as much food as possible, before the alarm was inevitably raised.

At that point, dragons would explode from their hiding places, teeth and claws bared, jets of flame tearing through the closely packed wooden structures. The inhabitants of Berk would awake to find giant, fire breathing lizards scattered throughout the Village, hard at work destroying their homes. Most of the food would have already been taken, so those that remained were entirely focused on spilling blood. It would all happen so quickly. There was no time to put on full battle gear or heavy armour, and weapons were handed out indiscriminately at the forge and armoury. Vikings could be burned in their beds if they were not fast enough. But the as battle got underway, the dragons would inevitably find themselves overpowered in the brutal, close quarter combat amongst the streets and houses. For both sides was a case of fight or die.

That was when the Night Fury would intervene personally. All those who heard the signature scream of Lightning and Death itself would be sent fleeing or hiding beneath their shields. It covered the retreat of its flock, breaking up any large groups of warriors that had quickly assembled in the panic, and tearing down the catapult towers that would have decimated the mass of slowly retreating dragons, laden with stolen food. It was not until the first light of dawn overcame the late night void of darkness that the demon retreated to its lair, its cover finally gone.

It was for that reason that Hiccup feared the male Night Fury's threat. It had always attacked strategically, hitting targets of high importance at crucial times during the fight. It could organise and conduct attacks like no other species they knew of, and from how Astrid described the way it had communicated, it sounded fairly intelligent, sentient even. If that Night Fury had access to an entire nestful of dragons, then it would be the end of days for Berk and her people. It had the tactical knowledge and the devastating power to ruin them, and for all Hiccup knew, it was already on its way.

So he had to tell his father, no matter how dangerous it was. Hiccup had knowledge that was vital to the survival of their very way of life, and even Astrid agreed that Stoick needed to know, no matter how difficult the fallout would be. He would find out about Astrid eventually, so it was probably better that Hiccup told him first, clearly and honestly, and just preyed that he would allow the former Viking to live long enough to explain herself.

Hiccup patted a small pouch on his belt, taking comfort from the rustling within. He had thought of a few ways to convince his father that he secretly befriended a dragon, and cold, hard evidence was sure to have an impact. It was going to take a lot of acting, convincing and talking to make his father believe him, and talking to people just so happened to be one his worst skills, along with dragon-slaying and sheep-toss. Hiccup took a deep breath, preparing for what was certainly going to be one off the most difficult conversations of his short life.

He emerged on the outskirts of the village, few others had risen this early, and it was relatively quiet as he slipped through the streets and between the houses. Normally, Stoick would have been up by now, but he always slept well during and after heavy storms. Maybe it was the reduced risk of a dragon attack that allowed his unstoppable father to have a lie in. As it happened, Hiccup caught him just as he was leaving the house for his usual chiefly business. Plucking up his courage, he cleared his throat and spoke with a loud clear voice that couldn't be argued with or contradicted. In a way, it was a pale imitation of the man himself, as Hiccup had witnessed countless occasions when Stoick had put the leader of a lesser tribe in their place, simply through his tone of voice.

"Dad, I need to talk to you. I mean _really_ , need to talk to you."

His father was taken aback slightly, as if he could hardly recognise his own son. Certainly, he didn't expect to see him right outside their house this early in the morning, and he had never been so eager to have a conversation before. The last time they had had meaningful interaction was when his father 'convinced' Hiccup to enrol in Dragon training.

"I… Yes. Of course son. What did you want to talk about?"

"It's probably best that we talk inside. This is kind of important." Hiccup glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting to see somebody following and eavesdropping on his meeting. Stoick frowned. Clearly this was something serious if it couldn't be said out in public, where no one would likely listen to Hiccup anyway. Wordlessly, he opened the door, and gestured inside.

The floorboards creaked as Stoick followed his son into the pantry, watching carefully as he unslung a small bag from his belt and laid a thin but worn leather book on the table. The boy struggled with a flint to light a small lamp, his hands visibly shaking as the sparks missed their mark again and again. After an unbearably long time under his father's crushing gaze, the lamp slowly began to glow, the oil soaked wick coughing into life. Stoick leaned heavily on the sturdy oak wood table.

"Now son, what is it you want to talk about. Make it quick because I-"

"Okay dad, please listen to me. What I am going to tell you, you will not believe. It will go against all logic and reason, but please hear me out. No matter how insane it sounds, just give me a chance to prove it first."

Stoick was very interested now. Whatever the boy was going to say, he had never spoken with this much conviction before in his entire life, at least to him. He could tell that this was important, whatever it was.

"Go ahead, I won't stop you."

"Thanks. It's about Astrid, and more specifically, the Night Fury that carried her of"

"Yes, a terrible thing, and for one so young. That Devil will have hell to pay when we finally track it down. I feel for her family the most, you can never truly get over the loss of a loved one…" Memories flashed through the chief's head. Fire, screaming and the face of his wife, permanently burned into his memory.

"What if I told you that Astrid didn't die that day?"

"Hiccup, is Astrid still alive? It is very important that you tell me right now if you know where she is."

"Yeah, see… This is where it gets kind of difficult. It turns out that Night Furies actually have… powers." Stoick raised an eyebrow, but allowed the boy to continue with his story.

"Astrid didn't die, she was… twisted. Transformed, into another Night Fury."

"What in the name of-"

"Stoick was cut short as Hiccup poured the contents of the bag into a pile on the table. They caught the light of the lamp, glistening in the most bizarre and unsettling way. Stoick's eyes were drawn to their obscure beauty. He became immersed in their deep black and smooth texture, unable to look away. For the first time in many, years, Stoick the Vast found himself speechless.

Hiccup didn't need to say anything, the Night Fury scales spoke for themselves.

"But Hiccup, my son. How in Thor's name did you get these?"

"Like I said, Astrid was turned into a Night Fury." Hiccup opened up the book and turned it upside down to show his father. He flicked through the pages, each one covered with immaculately illustrations of the World's most elusive dragon. It was overwhelming. Stoick bellowed out his deep laugh, but it was painfully obvious that it was forced.

"Son, do you really expect me to believe… all this?" He asked hesitantly, gesturing vaguely to the table and all of Hiccup.

"DAD! Look at the evidence. This is real, and we need your help. For once in your life would you please listen to me?!"

He looked deep into his son's eyes. There was desperation, and not a trace of his typical sarcasm and humour. Whatever the case, Hiccup truly believed his story, and it was his duty as a father to at least investigate his claims. Besides, the evidence that Hiccup had gathered was substantial. He would never have become chief through lack of intelligence, and the physical proof on the table in front of him appealed to his rational side. There was a very real possibility that his son was telling the truth, and that the village was facing a monster that they had severely underestimated, except now there were two. His face hardened.

"Son, if what you say is true, then we have a problem. Now there is another Night Fury we have to kill."

"WHAT! No, you don't understand, it's still Astrid inside. We've communicated with each other. She's not dangerous!"

"You tried to _talk_ to a Night Fury. Are you INSANE Hiccup! Do you have any idea how dangerous they are, how much damage they have caused?"

"She is not a dragon. She's still one of us, inside, where it matters. Please, let me show you."

Stoick seemed to calm slightly at his son's request. Stoick knew he should be listening to Hiccup more. He had found the scales and drawnt he pictures, after all. He picked up the book, and opened it at a random page. He stared for a long time in silence. A Night Fury was pawing at the air in front of its nose, trying to dislodge some kind of bug that had made its home on top of the scaly snout. The detail was superb, and the dragon, for all the stories and legends, looked relatively harmless. Hiccup was waiting anxiously, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table, waiting for a decision to be made. Stoick carefully closed the book, and laid it down besides the glistening scales. He was taking his time, gathering his thoughts and coming to conclusions. Making plans and considering his options. The grey light of dawn had surrendered to the sunlight that now streamed in through the windows and cracks in the wooden walls. The chief spoke slowly, in a clear, low voice.

"What do you mean show me?

* * *

Astrid had become very familiar with the sound of approaching Vikings over her last few weeks of imprisonment. The sound of leaves rustling and twigs snapping could often be heard behind her as the noise bounced and echoed off the cliffs. Hiccup was a lot more silent when he came alone, having found the shortest and easiest route weeks ago. Most visits, the only thing that gave him away was the occasional curse or plea to the Gods as he ran into another tree, was hit by a branch, or tripped over, repeatedly.

This time, however, he was making as much noise as possible, cutting straight through the undergrowth. As they had agreed beforehand, he was not alone.

It was vital to her continued survival that the chief knew about her condition. She had nowhere else to live, and she was bound to be discovered eventually, maybe even by her father, who would kill her on sight. She closed her eyes and forced those thoughts out of her mind, focusing on the task at hand. Initially, she had refused Hiccup's insane plan to go right up and tell him, but the more she thought about it, the more appealing it became. It was better that they convince Stoick truthfully and honestly, and on their terms, before her head was mounted above the great hall as the ultimate symbol of Berk's hatred for her race.

If Hiccup could get his father on board, it might hold the rest of the village back from killing her, long enough to defeat the looming threat of the dragons at least. Maybe, if she was lucky, people would believe that it was still her inside, and not some hideous, heartless beast responsible for countless tragedies.

She would have to look as meek and as unthreatening as possible to improve their chances of success, which was difficult considering what she was. Every aspect of her body was honed towards flight or death, often both at the same time. She was terrifying to behold, with her razor sharp claws and demonic colouration. There was a reason the tribe often referred to her kind as 'Devil'. She experimented with different positions, sitting, lying, standing, even hanging.

In the end, she settled with a fairly neutral stance, standing on all fours, slightly slumped. Her tail was curled up around one side, like she was about to start fanning herself with her remaining fin. She made an effort to keep lower to the ground than a grown man, and make her eyes as round and innocent as possible. She held the position as her two guests picked their way down the path in the cliffs, one much lighter and sure-footed than the other. The chief was the first to emerge from the small opening, shielding his eyes against the unfortunately placed sun.

"Well Hiccup, you've brought me all the way out here. Now tell me where you found this 'Astrid' Night Fury".

Astrid was sat stock still in the centre of the cove, watching keenly as Hiccup emerged from the rocks in his father's large shadow.

"Dad, she's right there." Hiccup pointed directly at Astrid, who had subconsciously pressed herself closer to the ground in the presence of her former chief.

Stoick had unsheathed his sword before the sentence was finished. An iron grip on his son's shoulders kept him from interfering as he bore into Astrid with the most vicious glare she had ever seen. She suddenly felt that this might not have been the greatest idea they had ever come up with. Perhaps the most disturbing thing, was that unlike every other living thing she encountered, his scent had not even the slightest hint of fear.

"So you're the _demon_ that took the Hofferson girl?" He spat, barely able to contain a lifetime full of unrestrained hatred. Astrid moaned and took a step backwards, slowly shaking her head.

"Dad No! This is Astrid. It's still her inside."

"Prove it. I'd rather not take my chances with one of them."

"What about the harness she's wearing? I would never have been able to fit that onto a wild dragon. It really is her!"

Stoick broke eye contact with the beast and slowly turned, giving it instead to Hiccup. So far he hadn't noticed the leather saddle that was still strapped around the dragon's torso, or the leather tailfin. There was a look of horror mixed with utter confusion. He had probably just exceeded the limits of earth-shattering revelations for a single day.

"Hiccup, you did WHAT?"

"Well, yeah. She couldn't fly and you were away hunting for the nest, so I just…"

"That is a DRAGON Hiccup! You are lucky to be alive you stubborn fool. Now come back here, we are leaving. NOW!"

Hiccup had taken a few steps forward, putting him just out of the reach of his father. He slowly walked backwards towards her, pleading with his father as he did.

"Dad, I don't know how else to convince you, just let me demonstrate. For once in your life could you please just listen to me?"

Hiccup continued to step backwards, even as his father stood, white faced, feet rooted to the spot. Out of shock or disbelief, Astrid couldn't tell. Hiccup held his hand out towards her, and made a big show of looking away, his eyes shut tight. He was putting his life in her hands, a display of absolute trust and devotion. She knew what she had to do. She edged forward, incredibly slowly, so as not to provoke the now sweating chief, who was watching his only son like a hawk.

Gently, she pressed her muzzle up against his palm, letting it rest in between her nostrils. All she could smell was Hiccup, and a deep sense of calm washed over her. A musical burble escaped her throat, causing Hiccup to laugh and Stoick to raise his sword. She moved to embrace him further, stretching out her wings for a full dragon-hug. Hiccup leant into her, momentarily forgetting his father's burning hatred.

For a big man, Stoick could move incredibly fast. By the time Astrid registered the attack, the sword was humming through the air, looking to tear through her neck. The blade cut deep and fast, blood pouring from the wound. The dragon screamed in pain, her voice cracking as she reeled back.

"NO!"

Astrid had barely enough time to pull her head back and out of harm's way, narrowly avoiding the blow that would have ripped through her arteries and windpipe. As it happened, the sword had just missed her neck, instead embedding itself in her right claw. As Stoick tugged it free from the mangled fleshand scale, her draconic instincts took over. Hiccup was knocked to the ground as she reared up, roaring a challenge at the Viking chief.

Her hind legs propelled her forward at lightning speed. The impact was marked with a dull smack, as Stoick was hit with the full force of a fast, heavy, and extremely angry dragon. The sword was savagely torn from his grasp as he hit the ground hard, Astrid's full weight pinning him down. He might have been a legendary dragon slayer, but there was nothing alive that could compete with an enraged Night Fury.

She held him in place with her paws, blood from her mutilated claw spurting all over his face, matching the red mist that had descended over Astrid's eyes. Her pupils were slit, her teeth fully unsheathed. She could kill the human in any number of ways, and there was absolutely nothing, that he could do about it. A terrifying grin spread across her mouth. _This_ was what it was like to be predator, an invincible hunter with no equal. She was the shadow of death itself, and she would give her prey all that it deserved. She felt no remorse, no hatred for what she was and what she was about to do. There was only her, the victor, and him, the victim. This is what it was to be a dragon!

She lifted up her head, a high-pitched whine building up in the back of her throat as fire flowed through her veins. She could feel the raw power building up inside her, waiting to be unleashed. Her mouth began to glow blue. She was seconds away from obliterating the Viking, but a small voice pulled her back from the abyss.

"Astrid NO!"

She visibly deflated, swallowing back the flames that had built up deep within her. Her eyes and ears dropped, her teeth disappearing and her claws retracting. The tension in her body disappeared as she took her weight off the chief's enormous chest. She looked down guiltily, at the blood-soaked, white-faced father beneath her. She gurgled a tortured and hasty apology before stepping back, leaving him shell-shocked on the grass. She stumbled away, before collapsing herself, curling up into a ball and licking her wounds.

It had happened so fast, Stoick could hardly register what had just happened. One moment he was bringing his sword down on the head of the creature that was attacking his boy. The next, he was slowly being crushed, his last sight a hellish pair of burning eyes, and the faint glow of lighting from within the beast's mouth.

His entire world view was turned on his head, as he realised that he had just been spared from death by a dragon.

He slowly propped himself up, wiping the blood from his face. The Night Fury that he had attacked had covered itself up with its wings, shutting itself out from the world. Hiccup was looking at him, holding his breath as if expecting to suddenly attack again. Stoick looked at his hand, and then at the dragon, and then at his hand again. It could have just as easily been his blood running down his fingers, but by some miracle, it was not. His old father had taught him never to ignore a sign from the Gods, even though they spoke in mysterious ways. For whatever reason, he had been given a second chance.

Maybe, just maybe, this really was the Hofferson girl, and he had just stuck a sword in her… talons? Nobody knew anything about Night Furies, maybe they were capable of transforming Vikings into their own kind. For what sick, twisted reason, he didn't know. All he knew was that dragons always went for the kill, and that this one hadn't, and that could only mean one thing.

"Astrid? Astrid Hofferson?"

The scaly ball stirred, a faint warbling could be heard from within. It unfolded itself to reveal a terrified, miserable creature, eyes glazed over, with specks of blood all over her face. It, no _she,_ was shaking from shock and blood loss, but at least the bleeding itself had stopped. She tried to take a forward, but collapsed to the side as she tied to put weight on her injured limb. His son rushed to her side, trying to somehow help her up again. Failing that, he settled for holding her limp and heavy head in his arms. The dragon's eyes fluttered, meeting Hiccup's before they slid closed, and Astrid passed into unconsciousness. Hiccup pressed his head against hers and moaned.

There was a moment of silence, in which neither father no son was willing to say the first word. Stoick stood, rooted to the spot, watching as Hiccup slowly lowed the sleek black head to the ground. There could be no doubt about it now, this dragon was clearly the daughter of one of his most trusted advisors, clearly the blond maiden who had been considered the best in her generation. There was no other explanation for Hiccup's actions, the harness on her back, or the fact that she hadn't killed the man who had just attacked her. It was turning out to be one of the most difficult days as Chief of Berk that he had ever had. To his surprise, it was Hiccup who spoke first.

"You see dad? You see?" There were tears in his eyes as he turned to face his father, a comforting hand never moving from its position on top of her head.

"You were right son. I… I'm sorry."

"Why do you never listen to me?" Hiccup choked. "The one time in my life that I needed you to. If you hadn't… maybe she… maybe…"

"She's not going to die Hiccup. We'll make sure of that." Stoick didn't have the heart to argue with Hiccup, or defend himself. He deserved it, and his son was right after all.

"But why… how can you…?"

"Run back to the village Hiccup, and get Gobber. Tell him to bring his cart, and don't talk to anyone else, understand?"

"The Village? But what about…?"

"Just go, son. Whatever happens, I'll protect her."

"What do I tell Gobber?"

Stoick paused, considering the question. How was he supposed to explain the situation that they found themselves in? How could he possibly convince anyone in the village that one of their own had been transformed into their worst enemy, but was still a Viking on the inside? It was a mess. There was only one thing he could say for sure.

"Tell him Astrid Hofferson is coming home."

* * *

 **The pen is mightier than the sword, and the review is mightier than the dragon. (JK, dragon beats everything).**


	13. Chapter 13

'How to Train Your Dragon' belongs to the Mad King George III, who traded it with the Thirteen Colonies in return for their independence.

 **So here we are again. Firstly, I must apologise for the long wait. I go on about not abandoning the story and then don't update for three weeks. its terrible really. Anyway, I just wanted to let you all know that I should be back on schedule now that my computer is fixed and I have wrapped up my work for the summer. If you haven't already, check out the updated version of chapter 1. I have improved the somewhat awful writing that began this great Saga.**

 **100 Reviews! I can't believe it. There needs to be a massive shout out to** 'Atombomb222 **' who left the 100th review. If I had a golden ticket to a mysterious chocolate factory, I would give it to you. Since I don't I will instead give you a warm, curt embrace through eh power o the internet. Thank you so much to everyone who has followed reviewed or even just read my story. I ever would have thought that my idle ramblings would be this popular. You all have my eternal thanks.**

 **Anyway, on with the story, things are heating up.**

* * *

 _"_ _It matters not what you think. Soon, before the first snow of winter falls, the entire nest will sally forth, and crush your pitiful village and all your Viking friends. I will bring you before the mother personally, and she will show you the way."_

Astrid's eyes fluttered open from a deep and oddly restful sleep. They took a long time to focus, and in the end she let them slide shut again. It just wasn't worth the effort. She didn't feel groggy, just comfortably tired, as if she slip back into sleep without a second thought, the dim light and the gentle heat crackle of the fire lulled her into a gentle slumber. A cool, damp cloth brushed across her forehead, a gentle pressure that filled her with an overwhelming sense of safety and security. She purred and gurgled in content, happy to just lie there in bliss. She could smell Hiccup, strongly. In fact, it was almost all she could smell. He must have been nearby, and that could only be a good thing, she liked Hiccup, after all. The cloth began to tickle slightly, and her nose began to twitch.

 **"** **Hey, Hiccup, stop it"** she complained. She swung her head back and forth, trying to escape the wet fabric, but it followed her everywhere, just brushing against her scales. She could hear giggling.

"Make me".

Astrid went to retort, but was cut short be a sharp intake of air. She held her breath for a second, eyes rolling back underneath her eyelids, and lifted her head up off the ground. She had no idea what was going on, and couldn't help herself from doing any of it. It quickly became clear, however, as her head shot forward, and her lungs were emptied in an instant. There was a deafening rush of air, like a mini explosion, as she let out a colossal sneeze.

Her eyes snapped open. Hiccup had actually been knocked onto his back by the force of the blast, ears ringing. His cloth had been blown into the fireplace, where it was slowly spitting and curling up, as the heat burned off the moisture. They looked at each other, then the cloth, and then back at each other. There was a moment's silence, before they both burst out with uncontrollable laughter. Astrid bellowed deeply, causing the furniture to shake slightly, listening to Hiccup's nasally chuckle that she had become so familiar with since her transformation.

He ran up and threw his arms around her, and she obliged, falling onto her back so that she could wrap him up in her wings. She felt his tiny grip tighten just a little bit more.

"I'm so glad you're okay. I thought we'd lost you for good this time"

 **"** **It's okay, I'm tougher than I look you know."**

"You must be the strongest person I know, and not just because you're deadliest dragon alive".

He wrestled free from her scaly grip, and stood back up again. She scrambled back onto her front, nuzzling his chest. He took her massive head in his hands, and planted a light kiss on her forehead.

"Don't you ever scare be like that again."

They stared into each other's eyes, a smile slowly spreading across both of their faces. There was only one response to that comment. Astrid opened her mouth, and dragged her tongue across Hiccup's face in an extra special lick, coating him in saliva.

"Eww, I will never get used to that".

She smiled, her tail thumping against the wooden floorboards. She looked around properly for the first time, they were inside some sort of building that much was clear. Light from the late afternoon streamed in through a grimy window that, with the help of the fire, lit up the cosy interior. It, as with all the homes in Berk, had been built out of cheap but strong materials, generally fir wood. No matter how sophisticated and practical they were, every building on Berk would have to be replaced eventually, and using expensive materials was inevitably a waste. It looked homely, typical of any Viking home in the village. A table with a few chairs crowded round in the corner of the room, large padded seats facing the fire, weapons and shields mounted on the wall, heirlooms of fighting legacy that went back far beyond living memory.

She froze as she looked at the weapons, memories of her encounter with Stoick rushing back. Looking down, she saw what remained of her paw. The sword had struck straight and true, removing a large chunk of her right appendage. The two claws on the outside of the paw were missing entirely, although the real mass and bulk of the paw had not been lost. It hurt much less than she thought it would, given that it was the dragon equivalent of losing several fingers. It had been much worse when she had lost her thin and sensitive tailfin, or hit her head hard against the rocks. It appeared to be healing well, a thick scab covered up any further bleeding, and already a shiny new layer of scales had begun to form. As she focused on the mangled flesh, a dull throb emerged in her injury, each beat of her heart creating a small but painful jolt.

Her ears pricked up, and her pupils slit. Her haunches lowered to the ground, she let out an involuntary warning growl. If she was in the village, then she would automatically be in grave danger. It seemed that everyone on the island had a personal vendetta against her kind, she wouldn't last a second if anyone found her.

Hiccup, sensing the anxiety and guessing at the cause, put a soothing hand on her flank.

"Its okay, they won't hurt us, not in here. Dad has made that _very_ clear. We'll be safe for now. As far as anyone knows, you're chained up with armed guards watching you constantly. Gobber is outside right now, making sure that nobody comes knocking…"

He trailed off, hearing angry voices arguing outside. They were just within earshot, but from what she could tell they were coming closer. The voices grew louder, no mistaking the hostile tone and the occasion clang of weapons. It sounded like they were preparing for a battle. She felt dread in the pit of her stomach as she realised that was exactly what they wanted. It didn't take much to rouse a Viking to violence, and a dragon camping out in their village was an open invitation down whatever they were doing and grab weapons.

The voices swelled, not just louder, but also more numerous. Hiccup dared over to window, rubbing a clean spot with his sleeve so they could both see through. Form the looks of it, she had been put in the Chief's house, which had a commanding view over Berk below, stretching right down to the cliffs and the docks. It also allowed them to see perfectly the angry mob of citizens, marching down the streets in something akin to a battle formation. Many were fully armoured, and all carried weapons.

The tide of angry villagers surged forwards through the streets, their posse growing larger with each passing second as every able man, woman and child in the entire village joined the mass of humanity. Some carried torches in the light of the early evening, although it was more likely they were looking to burn something to the ground. They were of course, headed straight for Hiccup's house, and there was absolutely no way to stop them, not now.

Astrid scanned through the crowd with her superior dragon vision. She saw the faces of those she loved, those she once called friends, all twisted with an ugly expression of hatred, all of them completely justified. She had been a fool, to think that her ordeal would have a happy ending. It was impossible, Vikings held grudges for too long, and nothing in Hell or on Earth was going to change their minds. The clamour was deafening now, the rumble of hundreds of feet, the crash of weapons beating against shields, the battle roars of an enraged populace.

As she looked, all hope slowly draining from her body, she focused in on the leader of the group. Her legs began to shake, as she recognised an all too familiar face heading the bloodthirsty mob, directing them towards the house. Her father had always been an influential man in the village, one of the chief's closest advisors. He was a proven battle commander, who lead from the front and would never be seen to retreat. All through her childhood, she had admired Angarr because of it, but now she felt nothing but terror. She was going to die, by her father's hand.

*BANG*

The door was ripped off its hinges by a powerful kick, and she yelped in surprise. They were out of time. An enormous helmeted figure bundled into the room.

"Sorry about that Hiccup, I can't work the door handle too well these days…"

"GOBBER!"

"Aye, I'm here, come to sort this all out before it gets messy. No need to thank me…"

"Gobber, they're coming! What do we do?"

"Hiccup, Dragon lass, if you want to be still be breathing by the time the sun comes up, I suggest you follow me!"

* * *

Stoick put on a brave face as he marched up the hill towards the great hall. Though the low sun shone bright in his eyes, he did not lift up his arm to shield himself like the other. He squinted, eyes practically closed, as he trod with confidence the path he had known since childhood. A small crowd had already gathered behind him, but sensing his determination, had not decided to challenge him. Yet.

In reality, only a few villagers had seen him manhandle the dragon into the family home with the help of Gobber and Hiccup, if you could call Hiccup's moral support 'help'. Stoick had given Gobber key instructions, to protect his son if things went wrong, which they might, and fast. It didn't matter how many Villagers had actually seen them with the beast, word spread so quickly through Berk that within a few hours it was as if everyone and their yak was a first-hand witness.

The crowd was steadily growing, growing louder as they talked amongst themselves, trying to find out what had happened, or guess as to why. Many were sceptical, not believing for a second that a Night Fury was living in their chief's house. Some wanted to congratulate Stoick, or at least prepare a feast to celebrate the capture of the most devastating dragon that anyone knew of. There were a few lurking in the crowd that did not appreciate what Stoick had done with the dragon, who wanted to know why Gobber was keeping watch on the house and turning everyone away. Their poured their poisonous words into the ears of anyone who would listen, 'we have been betrayed', 'the chief has gone mad', 'he has doomed us all'. A feeling of mistrust swept suddenly through the crowd as the sensationalist tales spread. By the time he reached the hall, Stoick was facing a baying, angry and confused mass of people. He could hardly be heard over the poorly phrased insults and angry accusations. He pushed his chest out, preparing to bellow like his own father had taught him so many years ago.

"QUIET!"

There was silence, not a single one of the hundreds that were now huddled around the thick oak doors made a sound. They may have been angry, but they had been taught to respect the chief since they could walk, no one dared to interrupt his clear and carefully chosen words.

"I will explain everything in a village meeting. Right here, right now. I will NOT let rumours and petty challenges tear Berk apart!"

As if on cue, the doors creaked open, pulled on from the inside. He did not turn around to see who had opened it for him, continuing to stare down the crowd that had thankfully calmed at his words.

"Let me assure you, all of you. Whatever happens, you are NOT in danger, and would do well to continue with your day. Anyone else who is not satisfied, follow me."

Many of the villagers turned and left at that, happy that the chief was protecting them. Most of them were simply afraid for their families and livestock, and with their safety assured there was no reason for them to stick around. Vikings were an intensely practical people, but not the most imaginative. They would be happy to return to their jobs and let the powers that be discuss the 'dragon' that had been captured. Some older Vikings, veteran craftsman and artisans that had respected both Stoick and his father before him, turned to follow the others back down the hill, having participated in enough dragon slaying over the years. Stoick cursed under his breath, they normally made up his main support base in village meetings, and this next one would be a lot more difficult without them.

The problem was made infinitely worse, however, by those who had stayed behind. Those with more ambition, less patience and more vengeance were more likely to stay. Those who had a problem with authority, had recently lost close family or friends, or just wanted a good fight. There were also the heads of some powerful families, the Halfhorns, the Hammersplints, and the Oakensons. These were dangerous men, those who were warriors by trade, and ambitious through birth. It was men like them that Stoick had to outdo in order to secure his position as chief in the first place. Angarr Hofferson led the group into the hall behind the chief.

Stoick's eyes took a moment to adjust to the light as he passed into the hall, taking his place at the head of the vast table from which countless wars and raids had been waged. He realised, that for the first time in the history of Berk, the chief would try and convince his people to save a dragon.

The doors swung shut again, shutting out the natural light and leaving him alone in a sea of barely contained hostility. Only the angriest remained at this point, and yet they still managed to nearly fill the entire hall. Gobber was guarding the house, and Spitelout was apparently nowhere to be found. He felt uncomfortable, unprotected. Something between anxiety and fear. These were _his_ people, and yet he did not recognise their hard, accusing faces. He would have to make explain the situation to them now, before things got out of control. He would make them believe, even if he was still slightly sceptical himself.

"I know what many of you saw today is disturbing. I know what you are going to ask me. Why is there a Dragon in my house?"

A shrill voice called out from the crowd, many actually wincing at the painful tone and pitch that was so iconic. "Well, why is there a dragon in your house, and a Night fury at that?" There were a few muttered agreements.

"I am TRYING to explain that now Mildew. What I am going to tell you will seem impossible. You will doubt me, and you will be unable to fathom how such events came to pass. All I know is this…"

The crowd collectively held their breath, leaning in closely to hear the news that was apparently impossible. In their arrogance, most felt that their own, already formed and fundamentally flawed judgements were undeniably true. Many were trying to guess what was happening, whist others were confident that they were about to hear what they already knew. Not one of them expected what the chief said next.

"That Dragon that we found in the woods. It… how do I explain this? It is not really a dragon, at least not until recently"

The muttering began again. Rumour had it that Stoick and Gobber had captured a Night Fury, or at least an exotic dragon that no one had seen before. The creature had been unusual to say the least, a mass of sleek black scale, all bundled up in Gobber's weapon's cart, but it was clearly a dragon. Eyebrows were raised at this latest revelation. Many did not understand, and Vikings had historically felt threatened by that which they did not understand.

Stoick looked around at his villagers, doubt written across their features, a hint of fear in their eyes. This would be the hardest thing he would ever have to do as chief of Berk. His people would almost certainly not believe him. At best, they would object loudly and storm out of the building, having lost his respect. At worst, they could revolt, overthrow him and kill the dragon themselves. The only thing in Berk that was more intense than the respect for their chief was the burning hatred of dragon-kind.

He met the stoney eyes of Angarr Hofferson, who had forced his way to the very front of the hall. His family had been hit especially hard by the Night Fury, and the most recently. If there was anyone who would go out of his way to butcher a dragon, it was him. It wouldn't matter what orders he was given, he was far too ambitious to let vengeance slip away without a fight. As they stared at each other, Stoick began to doubt himself. Was this really the best course of action, to tell them all the truth, no matter how insane and inexplicable?

He thought back to the words of his son. _'For once in your life can you please listen to me!'_ Stoick had been wrong not to listen to him. Hiccup had tried and tried to convince his father that the dragon was actually Astrid. They had been through hell, both of them, hiding away from their loved ones of pain of death. He owed to his son and to Astrid to tell the truth, consequences be damned. Anyway, if he, the greatest chief and dragon killer in Berk's history, could be convinced, then the village would be too. He broke away from Angarr, now determined to see this meeting through to the end. The chief took a step forward, and spoke with confidence the words that would shatter their very way of life.

"Through some black magic, whose origins I do not know, that creature is a human, a Viking. That dragon is Astrid Hofferson."

There was a sharp intake of breath, but no one uttered a word. Every single face displayed deep, profound shock at the news. Every face, apart from Angarr Hofferson's. His face was white as a sheet, and for a second it looked as if he would pass out. It quickly faded to red, and then an odd tinge of purple as he became enraged beyond reason. Those standing near him started to shuffle away, fearing a violent and bloody outburst.

Angarr had taken his daughter's death harder than anyone thought possible. She had been his favourite, the principle focus of his attention and devotion. The pride of the village, he had been immensely proud of her skill and prowess. After she had been carried away screaming by Death itself, he had been inconsolable, blaming himself. If only he had trained her harder, if only he had been there to save her, it was driving him mad.

But instead of being driven mad with grief, Angarr had focused his sadness and guilt into a burning hatred of the dragons, a need for revenge that outstripped even the most stubborn of Viking grudges. He had hardened significantly since the loss of Astrid, vowing silently to hunt down and annihilate the creatures that had wronged his family. He had become obsessed with that Night Fury and constantly carried with him a small, smooth black stone that he had found in a cove whilst out hunting. Part of him almost believed that it was a dragon scale, although it was unlike any other scale he had seen. It was a symbol of his commitment to his daughter, to honour her memory through vengeance.

Far from being comforted by the dip in raid activity, he had become restless and anxious, constantly on the lookout for something to kill. In village meetings, he regularly pushed for more nest hunts, almost begin the chief to give him a change to find and kill as many dragons as he could. Regular hunting went some way to satisfying his insatiable quest for blood, but until he brought his daughter's murderer to justice, his berserk insanity continued.

All of this was well known by practically everyone in the village. They had always respected him as one of the most important members of the community, on par with Spitelout and often in a position of command. He had created something of a cult following, his hardline conservative views on Dragon killing striking a chord with some of the most powerful older men, the heads of great family's and the like, who just so happened to be the ones who had packed into the hall.

Angarr was the first one to break the silence, with a low, venomous tone that practically spat murder.

"How DARE you! That _beast_ killed my daughter before her mother's eyes, and you have the nerve to tell us that Astrid _is_ one of them."

Stoick was sweating now, he had put himself into a very difficult position, and began to think that he had made a mistake. He tried to calm the situation down, appealing with patience and reason.

"Angarr, I know this is difficult, but you must believe what I say, did Vara actually see Astrid being…"

"My Wife saw my Daughter being carried off by Death! Are you calling her a liar as well? This is an insult to my family, and to all Vikings everywhere!"

The crowd hissed in agreement, turning on their Chief all at once. Nobody interrupted, but many started to shout and jeer their agreement. There were calls of "insanity" and "madness" at Stoick's claim. Angarr was not deterred.

"It is an affront to the Gods, Viking tradition, our whole way of life. This is an OUTRAGE! The chief puts us all in danger and then fill our head with LIES. He is no longer fit to lead us in any way.

Stoick tried to respond with a show of strength. He was losing the support of his village, and fast. He knew that if Gobber or at least a few supportive voices of reason were there to help calm the situation, it would be a very different story. But here and now, he was totally and utterly alone. There was nothing he could do to hold back their rage. Angarr was practically frothing at the mouth by this point

"I do not pretend to understand how or why this has happened. All I know is that Night Fury was once a human, and now…"

"SO IT IS A NIGHT FURY THEN!"

There was a roar of anger and agreement with Angarr as Stoick was cut off once again. He tried to formulate a comeback, but was at a loss for words. It seemed like everyone in the hall was shouting him down all at once. There were calls for Stoick to step down, for a fight to decide the next chief, to mount his head next to the dragons'.

Stoick was sure about one thing, he needed to get out, and fast, he quickly made his way down from the platform. Plates and cups were hurled at him, bouncing off his helmet and cloak as he shoved through the crowd. They were baying for blood, barely held back by their own, entrenched inhibitions about violence in the meeting hall. As he burst out into the evening air, he could hear those he had left behind rallying to Angarr. There were call to burn his house, and kill the dragon.

He froze, his blood ran cold through his veins. They were going to kill Astrid, and he knew exactly what would happen to Hiccup when they did. He needed to protect his son. He looked in the direction of his home, but angry, armed Vikings were already pouring out of the hall, blocking his way back. The vast show of strength and purpose brought many more Vikings out of their home, fully armed as if expecting a raid. Many were just caught up in the heaving mob without fully realising what was going on.

There was nothing he could do to help his son. Stoick choked back a cry of helplessness, a fairly rare emotion for one of the most effective chiefs Berk had ever seen. It brought back memories of the night he had lost his wife, the same sense of loss and utter hopelessness as luck decided the fate of those he loved.

But it was not all down to luck. Stoick had put his offspring in the care of his oldest friend for a reason. He and Gobber had come up with a contingency plan, and now was the time to put it into effect. With renewed purpose, Stoick sprinted down towards the docks. The jeering of the crowd was still ringing in his ear as he untethered a small ship, and with expert seamanship, guided it out of the harbour. He thanked the gods that the wind was in his favour, and steered his personal, unmarked ship around the edge of the island, and up the coast.

* * *

The darkness was overwhelming under the cover of the trees, and what little light was left was quickly fading as the sun slowly slipped beneath the horizon. Hiccup, even with his limited senses, could still hear the manhunt behind them as hundreds of enraged villagers tracked them through the forest. Gobber led the way, looking behind and around them constantly to check for tiny markings and pointers in a direction that only he could see. Despite his wooden limbs, he was making good speed, setting a challenging pace for a scrawny youth and an injured Dragon.

Astrid moaned quietly again, in fear as much as in pain.

"It's okay Astrid, Gobber's knows where we are going. We'll be fine"

Gobber glanced back at them every time Hiccup called the Night Fury 'Astrid', but he didn't say anything, focusing instead on finding a path through the forest. They had slowed somewhat as night took hold in it's entirely, but they never stopped outright. A gust of chilly wind brought with it the sound of horns and shouting. They had found their trail.

They fell into a steady pattern, picking their way between the trees, saying practically nothing as they made slight alterations to their course. There was a pervading sense of dread and a sickening feeling of terror as their pursuers edged closer with each passing minute. The constant pressure was exhausting, and a journey of a few hours felt like days.

They were all on edge, and Hiccup had to supress a scream of surprise when they finally emerged into a small cove that lead out into the ocean. Most of Berk's coast was made from high, rocky cliffs, but occasionally there was break in the steep rock face. On either side of them, the cliffs rose sharply, which with the help of the trees, perfectly masked the small channel that lead out to the open sea. There was a small lagoon, protected from the relentless pull of the tide and big enough to house a small ship.

Sure enough, there was one. From a single mast hung a drooping, off-white sail, secured against the wind by a few sturdy ropes. It was moored against the edge of the lagoon, tied around and old oak log that had fallen into the water during the storm. From the looks of it, there was little room for storage, only a small cabin at the stern of the ship to provide some shelter from the elements. It was built for speed and simplicity, and could be manned by just one or two able crew. It was his Father's Regatta ship, and he had never been happier to see it in his life.

Sure enough Stoick was standing aboard, scanning the treeline to spot them. When the three of them came into view, he untied the mooring and prepared for a quick escape. Hiccup was too tired to protest as Gobber lifted him onto the deck before stepping up himself. The ship rocked violently as Astrid leapt up onto the bare wooden slats, but the water was far too shallow to capsize in. Stoick pushed off from the beach with a long wooden oar, and Gobber steered through the channel. With barely a whisper, they left their pursuers behind, silently cutting through the waves as the sail caught the wind, pushing them out into the dark, endless maw of the midnight sea.

* * *

 **If you don't review, a giant wave will come and sink the ship and they will all be eaten by the Kraken, you have been warned!**


	14. Chapter 14

_'How to Train Your Dragon' is an intellectual property that belongs solely to The Loch Fyne Oyster Bar. Quality seafood in a relaxed and traditional style. Why not give them a visit the next time you're in the Trossachs National Park._

 **Well I'm still alive, despite the rumours. The last time I updated was so long ago that Prussia was still a country, and for that I am truly sorry. Basically, I took a few weeks off for the summer and a national shooting competition (came 2nd, so annoyed) and was half way through writing when good old Marvin the computer died. I checked and found that the problem was that the RAM had somehow become corrupted. A week later, I replaced (and upgraded) it. All was going well until Windows 10, which apparently didn't like my writing and decided to fry the RAM. So I replaced it, _again_ and here we all are now.**

 **Thanks for your patience and support, and I hope that there is enough violence in this chapter to keep "Goldspark1" entertained :D Also, to those who asked, I have read "I hear him scream" and others like it. That was actually one of my biggest sources of motivation. Anyway, on with the show!**

* * *

There was barley a whisper of wind to disturb the black smoke as it poured out of every opening in the Haddock household and pumped into the darkening sky. The sturdy timbers that had once seemed invincible now cracked and moaned as the fire ate through the support beams. The raging inferno turned night into day as the flickering glow bathed half the village in an eerie red light. It would not be long before the legacy of Stoick the Vast came crashing down, and the dragon-loving madness was brought to an end. The crowd around him hurled insults and abuse into the sky, cursing Stoick, his son and dragons everywhere. The full anger and frustration that came with years of constant raiding and death was aimed at the traitor's home before them.

Despite everything, a sad smile was all that he could muster as the last of the sun's rays disappeared below the horizon, leaving only the unnatural blaze to see by. There was a pain inside him, and emptiness that made all of his actions meaningless. He felt bad, he truly did. Stoick had been the greatest Chief in living memory, but he had gone senile. Insane to the point where he believed that dragons were his friends. Angarr had been given no choice. If they were to survive, Stoick and his offspring had to be purged. It was as if they were amputating a rotten limb, or felling a forest to prevent a fire from spreading. They would suffer, but they would be stronger because of it. The Tribe came above and before everything, even the chief. Sure, Angarr had brought him down by manipulating a band of weak-minded fools, but at least he had triumphed where dozens of others had failed. He had done his duty, and if anything, was lucky to escape with his life.

"It was for the best…" he found himself muttering, oblivious to the heat and ash. "The strong must survive, just like I always taught you… Astrid" He screwed up his eyes lest tears betray him to the mob. He could not afford weakness, not now.

"What in THOR'S NAME are you doing?"

A heavily built figure muscled his way through the crowd, shoving men and women to the ground as he went. Wide nostrils flared as he cleared a path with his shoulders and fist. Long thin horns stood above the rest of the tribe as forced his way into the centre of the gathering. He stood tense and ready, his face bright red and damp with the heat of the fire. Spitelout was almost as strong as his older brother, but a lot more willing to use his strength, especially when he was angry. Right now, he was seething, the anger was visible with his every breath and twitch. It was boiling over, and it was clear that it took all of his restraint not to lash out. To make matters worse, he was armed.

"What in Hel's name are you doing to the chief's house? He will execute you all on the spot for this treachery!"

Angarr rose to meet him. This was his battle, his responsibility. He pushed away his grief, bottling it up for another occasion. Now was not the time. He came face to face with the most short-tempered and dangerous man in the village. He found himself looking up a figure who stood perhaps two feet above him. Angarr's voice hardened with resolve, he knew what had to be done. Strength required unity, and with the chief's brother still in the picture, there would be no chance of that.

"Stoick is dead, Spitelout. The hunters will be dragging his body back now."

For a second, the larger man froze, as if his body had forgotten how to move. There was the briefest flash of shock and pain on his face, but his brows creased, and it quickly turned to rage. He said nothing, but his eyes said enough. Angarr met his gaze with defiance.

Spitelout lifted his war hammer with both hands, and took a large step backwards leaving him enough room to swing it to its full, destructive potential. It was a traditional design, the head chiselled out of hard stone and fixed to handle that would have seemed like a tree trunk to any other man, besides perhaps his late brother. It was a rare stone polished to a high sheen that was almost indistinguishable from iron. With such a weapon, it did not matter if the opponent was wearing armour, or scales, the force of a single blow would shatter bones like glass.

A loud crack marked the end of another beam in the house. As it echoed out across the sea, Angarr realised that the crowd had fallen deathly silent, the only voice to be heard was that of Spitelout. He spoke in a calm, low voice, but there was murder in his eyes. "You killed my brother? Your Chief. Your Lord and Protector. And then you have the audacity, to burn his home IN FULL VIEW OF THE GODS!"

He swept into the attack with the ease of a practiced and skilled fighter, bellowing a war cry as he brought the hammer down over his head. Angarr threw himself sideways into a roll. Anyone else would have been crushed, their skull shattered, but the Hofferson was not just any warrior.

"Stoick was mad, a danger to us all. He would have lead the tribe into oblivion. I have done what I had to do."

There was a smooth rasp as he unsheathed his short sword. The sword was simple and elegant. Lightweight with a razor thin edge and a sturdy point. The weapon was balanced perfectly between the solid length of steel and the bare bronze pommel. He had looted it many years earlier from an old Roman fort. Whoever had made it knew that the purpose of a weapon was to kill, and not to look good gathering dust on a wall.

He looked around. His back was to the burning house and the crowd surrounded them on three sides. They had left a circle in which to fight. They wanted to watch, but none dared stray within the reach of that vicious hammer.

"He was still your Chief, and My BROTHER!"

With a cry of strength and rage, the hammer swung again, faster than before. Angarr managed to knock it off course with a tap from his sword. A quick dodge in the opposite direction and the deadly blow swung harmlessly by.

Spitelout roared a challenge, and swung the blunt tool horizontally at Angarr's head. He ducked under the attack, feeling the air rush over his head, whipping at his short hair. The swing had thrown Spitelout off balance, and Angarr leapt up to attack.

A thick fist connected with his face as roze, a heavy impact that caught Angarr completely off guard. There was a sickening crunch as teeth shattered under the force of the hit. He fell backwards, his nose a broken red mess. Spitelout was quicker than he looked, and Angarr was spitting blood because of it.

For a second the world was black, but his eyes opened to see the hammer flash in the light of the fire as it swung for his head. With a burst of desperate energy, he moved to block the attack, throwing his sword into the path of the strike. A jolt of pain ran through the nerves in his arm as the sword met the hammer. He was showered with fragments of metal as the sword shattered, bending and ripping apart under the stress

Angarr screamed and cradled his forearm, fearing that the force of the blow had broken bones inside his body. As he writhed on the floor an enormous hand grabbed him by the scruff and hauled him to his feet. He looked up again only to see Spitelout's fist slam into his gut. Angarr doubled over in pain. His arm was on fire and he was coughing blood. He could hardly breath through his ruined nose. Spitelout gripped the smaller man by the throat, and lifted him up to his eye level. His voice was pure venom.

"Now, you will suffer for what you have done. What you have done to my family, I will do to yours. I _promise_ you, Angarr Hofferson, they will suffer…"

Spitelout threw the man down in front of the burning ruin, and lifted his hammer for the final, fatal strike. Angarr could not draw his eyes away from the man who would end his life. For a moment, time seemed to stop, and he felt nothing. No pain, no anger. He imagined Odin pulling his spirit from his body, he imagined seeing his daughter again. He closed his eyes, and waited for the inevitable.

They snapped back open as his hands closed around a sturdy handle protruding from his belt. Barely had Angarr registered what the object was when another support beam collapsed in the house, sending a jet of smoke and embers into Spitelout's exposed face, temporarily blinding him. The big man cried out in pain and frustration as he dropped the hammer with a clatter. It gave Angarr the briefest of openings.

As he climbed to his feet, he slipped the engraved dagger out of his belt and cut a deep gash in Spitelout's calf muscle. His opponent's blood spurted all over his hands, making the blade slippery in his grip, but Angarr held it firm and ready.

Half blind and reeling from his injury, Spitelout swung wildly with his fists, looking to beat someone to death with his bare hands. It was child's play to avoid his attack. Angarr darted to one side, and plunged the dagger into Spitelout's back, sinking it deep into the flesh.

All of Spitelout's breath left him as he groped, open mouthed, for the blade in his back. He twisted and stretched, but could not reach it. With his once great strength failing him, he looked up into the sky and tried to call out to the Gods, but his lungs were empty. Angarr yanked the dagger out of his back and gave his defeated opponent a gentle push. Silently, the brother of Chief Stoick the Vast slumped and fell. His body crashed into a load bearing pillar as it went, and the rest of the structure collapsed in on itself, a tower of flame shooting up into the sky. There were no screams. With one fell swoop, the Haddock household had become a funeral pyre.

The audience was stunned. They had just witnessed two of the best warriors in the village fight to the death. It had happened so fast, most had not yet realised the importance of what had just happened. With Stoick, Spitelout, Gobber and Hiccup gone, there was no better candidate for leadership than Angarr himself.

He was on the verge of collapsing from his injuries when one brave soul cried out from somewhere in the crowd.

"Hail, Chief Angarr of Berk!"

The people of Berk looked at each other in amazement, exchanging hurried whispers and comments. There was a pause, and then as one, the crowd picked up on the idea and accepted the decision unanimously.

"Chief Angarr!" another cried, followed by a resounding cheer that could be heard across the island. The new Chief found himself carried back into the village by the mass of excited Vikings, all eager to flock to their newest leader. Angarr was still in a daze from the fight, and was totally unprepared for sudden rush of support.

Although ever since Stoick had been run out of the Village, leadership had always been in the back of his mind. It was typical for the one who deposed the last chief through a show of strength to automatically become the next. He found himself smiling, more from relief then from happiness. He pushed away the guilt and pain, and let himself get swept along with the wave of emotions. That and the crowd, at least.

Doors were shut and bolted throughout the village as Angarr returned to the Great Hall. Those who had been loyal to Stoick and his family peered nervously out of their windows, shying away as the mob marched past. They feared for the future, for their families, for their tribe. If Angarr really was the new Chief, he would be looking to cement his power, and quickly. Berk was changing, and only time could tell if they would survive the long night.

* * *

A solitary gull turned lazy circles in the sky, directly above the tiny, single-masted vessel. It flew high, wheeling and swooping in an irregular pattern, Hiccup noticed. Sometimes it would pass in front of the sun, the shadow flicking over the ship for a fraction of a second before he lost sight of it in the intense glare. It was a dull grey, on the underside at least. It was almost white, but it would never be as clean and vibrant as to blend into the clouds that it idly skirted. There was not a breath of wind to hinder its flight, and it remained silent as it floated through the sky, oblivious to the plight of lesser beings below it.

Hiccup sighed, as he pondered every detail of the seagull for what must have been the tenth time. He longed to be moving, but the sail hung limp, save for the occasional ripple brought on from the gentle rocking of the waves. They had made good progress since their hurried departure from Berk, taking advantage of a stiff northerly breeze to push them south and east. However, their good fortune died just as they lost sight of the islands they had called home for their entire lives. They were stranded, with only that damn bird for company. He couldn't help but feel that the gull was taunting him from its unreachable perch in the sky. He longed to hear it call or scream, anything to convince him that it was not silently laughing.

 _Its official_ , Hiccup thought, _I've gone insane, and now there are voices in my head. Again._

He lay at the helm of the ship, nestled in the nook where the two sides met. There wasn't much room in the streamlined tip; the ship was built for speed after all. He would have sat right at the front, but that honour belonged to the dragon that he was currently lying on top of. She had somehow curled into the space that was barely big enough for Hiccup's meagre frame. But she was sleeping and breathing fine, so he wasn't too worried. Dragons tended to be more durable than most. His left hand never left Astrid's head, and had been gently stroking her scales for so long that he was now doing it subconsciously. The wound in her claw had reopened during their escape, and had to begin the healing process all over again. That said, it was markedly smaller that it had been a day earlier. Dragons, it seemed, healed at a remarkable rate, but there was no surprise there.

There wasn't a tribe in the known world that didn't have some legend about dragons' blood containing magical powers. Sometimes, the great warrior would drink it and gain superhuman strength. Sometimes it would enter through a bite wound, and the injury would disappear in a matter of seconds. There was one story in particular that had intrigued Hiccup from the moment he had heard it, more so since the events of the last few weeks. Axel the Enraged, it was said, was one of the original settlers of Berk, who came from lands unknown with Hiccup the First to try and build his new life with his new family. That family was killed on the first ever dragon raid, burned in their home by a black Monstrous Nightmare. His wife, and four children, two pairs of twins, all gone. Axel, in a fit of rage and sorrow, sailed off alone into the sunset, vowing to slaughter every dragon he found and drink their blood as revenge. He returned years later on the night of a terrible raid, with a helmet made of dragon bone. Legend said that he could breathe fire, and was in turn completely immune to flames himself. It was said that the villager drove him away due to his unnatural abilities, and was never seen again.

Hiccup laughed silently. The parallels between legend and reality were uncanny, although he was confident that the stories never mentioned Axel being able to fly. He looked down at the dormant scaled beast on which he lay. Stories would be written about the two of them, he was sure. The girl who became a Dragon, the Dragon that became a legend. The dragon who had a small and not at all noteworthy companion that helped her to fly. It seemed to write itself.

Of course, Hiccup would always be living in the shadow of his father's legend, although he doubted how much that legend meant anymore, given their hasty departure from a village that now seemingly hated them. Stoick himself was manning the wheel, staring aimlessly at the horizon. From the way he partially slumped over the wooden spokes and the glazed look in his eyes, Hiccup could swear that he was in some kind of trance, or at least unconscious. Hiccup laughed again. Of course his father could sleep with his eyes open. He could do literally anything, as he had so often been reminded by his own incompetence.

The wheel was particularly interesting. Theirs was the only boat on the island that he knew of with such a device. It allowed one man to control the rudder from wherever it was mounted. Hiccup would be lying if he said that he had nothing to do with its design, but people always seemed to forget about that. Ingenious as it was, it was not the most comfortable bed, but his Father didn't seem to mind.

They had been up the entire night, running from certain death at the hands of their neighbours, an activity that was nothing if not tiring. Gobber was asleep in the small cabin behind the wheel, apparently not yet fully comfortable with sleeping next to a full sized Night Fury. There was so little room on the tiny deck, he would be practically lying on top of her, like Hiccup but much, much heavier.

Nobody had said anything since they had hurriedly set sail the night before. His Father had simply manned his post with typical determination and pushed off into the open water. Gobber too had remained silent, before he took to bed in the cabin. Astrid had curled up and was unconscious moments after stepping on board, but Hiccup did not begrudge her that, given the injury. By dawn he was the only one still awake, apart from his father's waking doze. His body had adapted to staying awake at night from his time with Astrid, but for once he wished he could sleep. The boredom, angst, worry and anticipation was making him sick.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything to break the maddening silence. The gull beat him to it, a shrill call, long and unbroken. Despite the distance, it seemed as loud as if it had been sat on his shoulder. He was certain now, the bird was toying with him, and he had lost his mind as well. The beating Sun, the lack of movement, the crushing boredom. It was finally getting to be too much.

Hiccup stood up quickly, but with blood rushing away from his head and the uneven deck underfoot, he fell straight back down. Astrid didn't move when the scrawny child collapsed on top of her. She barely would have noticed had she been awake. There was no reaction from Stoick either. He didn't even blink.

Hiccup struggled to his feet again, slowly this time. He was determined to beat the crushing boredom that was driving him insane. Tightly gripping the hand rail, he clambered over Astrid's tail and shuffled to the back of the boat.

"I'm going to try some fishing dad. Dad?"

Stoick grunted and closed his eyes. He kept his position at the wheel, but sagged visibly, as if he had just been reminded of a terrible event that was burned into his memory. If anything, Stoick looked heart-broken. Abandoned by his tribe, driven away and set adrift. For once Hiccup could actually relate to his father, although he still felt that he had more in common with a dragon. He squeezed past, gently as he could.

"Ok then, I guess I'll just…"

Hiccup opened a small bench that doubled up as a chest. It was just outside the cabin, and Gobber was so loud from this distance that Hiccup swore that the ship was vibrating. Eventually, he found what he was looking for. A sturdy old rod and some rope fibres to act as tackle. There was a worn basket with some old smoked fish in it. It wasn't much but he could use it as bait.

Hiccup made his way back to the front and leaned on the railing. He set up the makeshift rod and gently dangled it off the edge of the boat. They weren't moving, and since he only had a short length of rope, he would have to play the waiting game. Fishing was one of the few Viking-acceptable activities that Hiccup had ever shown promise in. The knack for using the right type of bait in the right location at the right time had always come naturally to him. It was something that required wits as much as it required strength, and he had exactly one half of the requirements. Still, it was better than anything else.

Hiccup's 'wits' didn't seem to matter, however, as two hours in, not a single fish had taken the bait. Sometimes, they swam up to the surface, only to brush past the bait and slip merrily away. They were so close, it was infuriating. Eventually, even the fish became tedious, and Hiccup found his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. He did not fight it, instead, welcoming his release from boredom and insanity. Still gripping the rod, he drifted away into a fitful sleep.

"No… No… don't… Not the kraken"

He awoke with a start as a gust of air blew directly into his air. He let out a not at all girlish scream as he opened his eyes mere inches from the face of a Night Fury. He relaxed after a few seconds, when he realised that he was no longer dreaming.

"Oh… Good morning Astrid"

She snorted with amusement, gesturing to the sky. It was well past midday, and the sun was beginning to sink on the horizon.

"Good afternoon? Evening? Look I'm trying my best here so why don't you…"

She silenced him with a long lick across his face, and sat back on her haunches with a stupid grin. He couldn't help but smile back, and launched into a bear hug.

"I'm so glad you're ok."

Astrid warbled a response, the meaning clear. Her tail began to thump on the deck, a loud drumming that travelled the length of the boat and back again. Somewhere in the cabin they heard Gobber complaining.

 _"_ _Who ….. the name of Odin's ….. bearded sister's….. What time do ya call this?"_

They both fell about laughing, but Gobber did not come out of his cabin. Stoick was awake, but he was checking the rudder at the back of the boat, behind the cabin. He acted like Astrid didn't exist. Not that they minded. As far as Hiccup and Astrid were concerned, it was just the two of them, together.

The deck rocked to one side as Astrid leant out to see the rod and the bait, her tongue hanging out of her mouth. Apparently, she was more excited about it than Hiccup was.

"Yeah, I tried to do some fishing. It didn't go very well, not a single bite. Personally, I think it's the bait, there's no way a fish could outsmart… Hey, wait, what are you doing?"

Astrid started to breathe huge gulps of air, pushing her huge chest out as she did. Suddenly, mouth began to glow blue, and a thin whine could be heard building up. With a sound that resembled something between a sneeze and an explosion, a small blue bolt hit the water, and a large bubble of steam erupted at the surface. Seconds later, countless stunned fish floated gently to the surface. Her head darted into the water, rolling the deck even more. Hiccup struggled to keep his balance. She emerged with a mouthful of fish, and started chewing them in bliss. Hiccup had just about recovered by the time she swallowed the seventh fish.

"Well that was interesting, when did you learn to do that?

Astrid gave a dragon shrug and said something in her singing dragon language.

"It just felt… right?" Hiccup asked.

She paused, and then nodded, happy that he had understood. They were getting better and better at communicating, even with the language barrier. There was something between them. Words couldn't express the odd sense of companionship that they had. They had a subconscious understanding, with mutual thoughts and feelings. The words didn't matter so much anymore; the meaning was always clear. He scratched her under the chin and she groaned in delight, quickly rolling over for a belly rub. As she did so, the deck tilted to the other side, once again knocking Hiccup off his feet.

"You should be more careful! I'm delicate you know."

She rolled her eyes and coughed, as if to say 'I'm not going to do this myself'.

"Fine, if you insist."

A sudden gust of wind tugged on the sail, and the ship lurched forward with a sudden jolt. Hiccup was thrown to the floor again, this time on top of Astrid.

"OH COME ON!"

Stoick emerged from behind the cabin, showing the first signs of life in hours. Gobber was pulling on his trousers as he came out of the cabin, also interested by their sudden change in fortune. There were several more gusts that eventually merged into a strong breeze. They began to pick up speed as the sails filled to bursting.

"HA" Stoick roared, she's moving again, and the wind is with us too!"

There was nothing that supress the simple joy of a Viking and his boat, and Stoick was beaming as he took the wheel once more. The feeling was infectious. After so long baking in the open ocean, it was refreshing to finally feel the wind again. Even Gobber, groggy as he was, cracked a smile as they began to surge across the waves. He quickly stopped when he remembered why they were there, or indeed, why he was sharing the deck with a Night Fury. Stoick spun the wheel and adjusted their course south. The boat soared across the water, not through it. There was little resistance from the thin and shallow hull. They were practically flying. Each wave was like a thermal, it carried them up and along, propelling them to record speed. Stoick had hand crafted the boat, taking great care to make it as swift and as nibble as possible, but never in all his life had he travelled so fast

"It's almost a gale, at this rate we'll be there by dawn tomorrow!"

"Dad, where are we going?" Hiccup shouted over the flap of the rigging and swell of the waves. His father strained at the wheel to stay on course, fighting against the elements and harnessing the power of the wind. He grunted an answer.

"We're going to see an old friend. Jarl Raynir owes me a favour or two, and I think we'll be more welcome on the mainland then on the neighbouring Isles, especially with that damn Dragon of yours."

Astrid looked unimpressed, but she said nothing. Instead, she turned and leant out across the bow of the ship, revelling in the wind and spray. She closed her eyes, feeling Hiccup next to her doing just the same. She was off the island, she no longer slept in fear, and at that that very moment, at the head of the ship with Hiccup at her side, she felt free.

* * *

 **Feel free to leave a review. If you don't I may or may not annex the Sudetenland. I'm sure nobody will notice.**


	15. Chapter 15

I sold the rights to HTTYD to Disney for trillions. With the money I intent to genetically engineer a real Night Fury. Don't tell me it can't be done!

 **Not much to say here really. This is probably my favourite chapter so far. A few new characters too. I couldn't help but imagine 'Helgi' as the Viking equivalent of Richard Ayoade. Look it up. A quick shout out to 'Dragon Lord Draco' for writing the most comprehensive review I have ever seen. It covers life, the universe and everything... pretty much.**

 **Anyway, onward!**

* * *

"Look, just… Try not to move"

Hiccup was straining to close the door of the cabin, trying to stuff the dragon into the tiny compartment with minimal injuries to the both of them. He pushed against Astrid's hind leg, trying to squeeze them far enough so the door would shut. The saddle scraped against the roof as she tried to ball up and conserve space. She moaned again, clearly at odds with the whole situation.

"We have to get you in, we're almost there."

Astrid's leg twitched and the door swung open again. She snorted in annoyance.

"The Jarl's men will kill us if they see you, you have to hide. Now let me…"  
Hiccup gritted his teeth and focused all of his strength into shutting the door. Astrid shuffled further into the cramped room, and the door began to squeeze shut, inch by inch. Hiccup grunted with the effort, digging his feet into the deck so he wouldn't slip. It was almost fully closed, but he was tiring.

"I can't… it's not going anymore."

Stoick reached out with a single hand and pressed the door shut, the latch sliding into place. Wordlessly, he turned back to steering the boat. Hiccup tried to look through a crack in the wooden wall, but all he could see was a mass of black scales, shifting to and fro in the darkness

"Are you okay in there?"

A deep, guttural growl sent vibrations through the deck. He could have sworn that she said something sarcastic. Gobber chuckled from the front of the boat, apparently a lot more relaxed now that the dragon had been safely put away.

"It's not long now laddie, Marauder's Bay is just past the twins, a mile or so. Once we've got things sorted we can let you out. Ya hear that Hofferson-Fury? Night…Astrid?

There was muffled roar from within the cabin. Astrid was irritated already, Gobber was just a bonus.

As they approached the entrance to a large Fjord, Hiccup looked around in wonder. Two mountains stood either side of the opening into the sea, and they mirrored each other almost exactly. West, towards the ocean, was a sheer drop, with grey and weathered rocks jutting out in irregular intervals. Hiccup could see the seabird swooping and diving around their perilous nests, their calls echoing off the rock face. Inland, the slope was gentle, curving away towards the ground and dotted with patches of forest. Hardy evergreens that grew taller and stronger the further down they travelled.

"The twin's?"

"Aye, that's them."

They slowly passed between the peaks and into the Fjord. The temperature was noticeably lower in the shadow, and he suspected that some areas of the channel might never see direct sunlight. Hiccup strained his neck to see the top. He imagined huge chunks of rock breaking off from Cliffside, tumbling down and crushing their pitiful little boat like an ant. He shivered, not just from the sudden cold.

"So why is it called Marauder's Bay?"

Stoick glanced down at his son, but remained silent, focusing on steering. Hiccup sat down next to Gobber, who was happy to answer his questions.

"Well that's because of the people who live there, isn't it? Honestly Hiccup, sometimes…

"So the tribe is The Marauder's then?"

"Gods no lad, they're Geats! Have been for generations. The name comes from their favourite hobby, which is incidentally is also their profession."

"So they're Marauders? They go… Marauding?"

"No Hiccup! Raiders! Pillagers! Looters! Did I teach ya nothing boy?"

"I'm so confused."

Gobber bellowed a laugh, rocking the boat as he tilted his head skyward and leaned back against the wooden railings. It was the kind of laugh that went on for a little bit too long, and Hiccup felt compelled to nervously join in towards the end.

"No I'm just messing with ya lad. These Swedish folk are different from us islanders. For one thing, they're not as big. Well, they're still bigger than you I suppose."

Hiccup rolled his eyes, "Thank you for reminding me. What do you mean by 'Swedish'?"

"Well that's where we are, The Kingdom of Sweden! The King rules over the Jarls, and the Jarls rule over the tribes."

Hiccup stared at Gobber with something like confusion mixed with amazement mixed with disbelief. All he had ever know was Berk, and the occasional other tribe they visited for a Thing. From what he could see of it, the mainland was huge. It stretched far into the horizon without ever fading into the sea. It was impossible that it could all belong to one King, even with the help of these 'Jarls'.

"All this, one man, is it really all his?"

Gobber chuckled, but not as violently as before.

"It's a big world out there Hiccup, and you've still got a lot to see. Hel, when I was younger I tried my best to explore as much of it as I could. We got around quite a bit, your father and I, didn't we Stoick?"

"Aye Gobber, that we did."

This is a tribe of Geats, but they all answer to the King. And they don't make their living off sheep and yaks like we do. The Jarl sponsors armed raiders to plunder the great cities to the south and west. They bring back as much gold as they can carry and I can tell ya lad, from my own experience a Viking can carry a _lot_ of gold, as long as it's somebody else's."

"But how do they have the time, surely the dragons would just lay waste to their tribe when the warriors are gone?"

"Ahh but that's where you're wrong. Ya see, the dragons don't attack the mainland, not this far south. Too far from their nest, too warm in summer, who knows?" Gobber leant down and spoke in a low tone, directly into Hiccup's ear. "There are some round these parts, who say that dragons don't exist, that they're stories and legends to be told to the children at night."

"How is that possible? Don't they know about us, about the raids?"

"Aye, we've told them, but that doesn't make them all believe us. Besides, we're normally so caught up in fighting the beasties, you may have noticed, that we don't have time to trade with anyone other than our friendly neighbours."

Hiccup sighed. He'd spent much of his childhood recovering after beatings from his 'friendly' neighbours. Perhaps Berk was never meant to be his home. This Kingdom sounded a lot more interesting, and safer. They had drifted past the twins and the land ahead of them was beginning to flatten out. Lush green hills replaced the jagged cliffs of the shoreline, although Hiccup could still see a snow topped mountain range in the far distance. A patch of sandy beach marked roughly the halfway point along the fjord, although it was still partially obscured by the sharp bend that Stoick was what Hiccup could see through the trees, the beach curved inward, like a crescent, and he could just make out various different smoke stacks that indicated bustling settlement.

"But don't worry yourself, they definitely know about the dragons here. Jarl Raynir is the only one we know of here who is likely to help us. Marauder's Bay is one of northernmost and isolated tribes, believe it or not. He's always been looking to grab an island of his own. He has a wee bit of an… obsession."

"What do you mean?"

Stoick was the one to answer, silencing Gobber, although he never took his eyes off the path ahead.

"Dragons, son. Raynir wants to capture and train them. He's convinced he can use them to become the most powerful man in all the lands. It's a shame really, his delusions are the only thing that's stopping him from becoming a great chief."

Hiccup was shocked. Never had he heard of anyone try to _train_ a wild dragon before. Capture them, sure, but it was impossible. He stopped suddenly, an icy chill running down his spine. Of course it wasn't impossible to train a dragon.

"Astrid! What if they find her, what if he tries to take her from us? We can't just let him turn her into his pet?"

"That's why we hid her away son." Stoick paused as he heard an anguished roar come from the cabin. He raised his voice for the benefit of Astrid.

"Dad, where have you taken us? What are we going to do?

"Jarl Raynir, will _not_ get his hands on Astrid, I can promise you that. But still, if my plan is going to work, we are going to need her help. She can't be seen straight away, not until I know how Raynir will respond. He walked over to the door so that Astrid could hear him clearly and gestured for Hiccup to come over. I want the both of you listen, carefully."

* * *

It was approaching the end of the shift for Helgi and Clamm. They had stood guard over the docks at the bay since the early hours of the morning, and their relief would arrive at midday, if they didn't forget, again. The docks were a relatively easy post, with only a few jetties ever in use at any one time. This far North, they didn't usually get traffic from other tribes, and they only had to put up with returning raiders, laden with booty and a superiority complex. Only a few fisherman had been out that morning. It was an unusually quiet day, and the wooden decking was deserted.

"Look there Clamm, a boat. They're back early aren't they?"

Clamm, for all his intellectual shortcomings, was one of the most powerfully built men in the bay, and was busy loading crates of timber onto the deck of a nearby longship when he heard his companion call.

"Oh, so they are." His spoke slowly, with a slight slur towards the end of each sentence. "Say, Helgi. I don't suppose you recognise the markings on the sail do you."

"I can't say that I do. But that's probably to be expected, given that there _are no_ markings on this particular vessel."

Helgi was the polar opposite of Clamm. Tall and thin with wiry limbs, he had always had trouble fitting in to a society that valued raw physical power to an unjustified degree. He had a high, almost nasally voice that seemed to pierce the air whenever he spoke, and a nest of fluffy black hair that would be out of place on anything other than a sheep.

They stood together, watching the strange ship approach. As it closed on the Jetty, the sail was quickly rolled up, and an oar slid out on either side.

"I've just had an interesting thought Clamm."

"What is it?"

"If this ship has no markings, and neither of us recognise it, perhaps we should… You know?"

"Know what?"

"Intervene?"

"Oh, right Helgi. That is a good idea."

They stood there awkwardly, watching the oar slip neatly in and out of the water, pushing the ship ever closer to its destination. They looked at each other, and without a word, they simultaneously began to panic.

"Weapons Helgi!"

"Right, weapons."

They rushed to and fro across the dock, the old wood creaking underfoot as they tried to find where they had left their weapons. Clamm was buried headfirst in a store room, frantically searching for his mace Helgi jumped onto the moored longship, and quickly searched around the deck where his friend had been working. A moment later, his head popped back up.

"Clamm! Clamm, come out of there, I've found your mace."

The big man fell backwards out of the storeroom, a wooden bucket on his head.

"Thanks Helgi, I found your spear."

"That's a broom Clamm, I've got my spear here."

He jumped out the ship and ran over, pulling the bucket off his companion's head. He gave him the mace and his helmet, with one of the horns missing and the other one tilted downwards the wrong way.

"Take this, and put this on. Come on, we've got to stand guard."

The boat was almost upon them. The oars were being drawn in and they were drifting towards the closest jetty. The two guards took up their positions, weapons at the ready. They could see the three crew busily engaged in preparing the ship for landing. There were two enormous Viking warriors, armoured and able, plus a thin weedy figure with something of a slouch. Helgi narrowed his eye and shouted orders.

"Right, I'll take the little girl, you take the other two, got it?"

"Got it."

They were so close that they could see the off-white colour of the one-armed warrior's moustache. Visions of battle and glory flashed before Helgi's eyes. They might not have been chosen to go on the raids with the others, but they were guards for a reason. They would defend their homes with their lives. Their defining moment would soon be upon them.

"Hold fast brother. Marauder's bay has never been taken before, and it will not be taken today. We will hold these heathen's back, whatever the cost. The whole tribe is counting on us. If we don't defend this dock, they could all be put to the sword."

Helgi paused whilst he cleared his throat. The large, red headed Viking on the boat had put out his hand to catch the jetty and pull them alongside.

"Songs will be written about this day, years from now, men will say 'This was our finest hour'. Stand your ground, and tomorrow, we shall dine, in Valhalla!"

His voice cracked with the last word, but he made up for it with a squeaking battle cry. They lowered their weapons, and prepared for the inevitable. The red head had finished tying a rope to the mooring post, and pulled himself onto the deck with a grunt. Helgi went to stop him.

"Halt! Who goes there? In the name of Jarl Raynir the seventh of the Marauders, I order you to step no further without …"

He was cut off as a meaty fist smothered his face. Without a break in his stride, the red-head pushed the guard aside like a rag doll, his helmet flung into the water.

"I am Chief Stoick the Vast of Berk. I have business with the Jarl."

Calmm immediately stepped aside letting him pass.

"Yes sir! Right away sir! I'll take you to him Sir!"

Helgi looked up in a daze, watching as blond islander hobbled past, giving him an evil look as he went. The last of the three stopped for a moment leaning down to mutter an apology.

"Sorry about my dad, he can be kind of… forceful."

"That's okay miss, it's our job to be pushed around. Isn't that right Clamm? Clamm?"

The other guard was already disappearing up the hill and into the settlement, struggling to keep up with Stoick, who apparently knew the way already. The small one gave him a troubled look, like he was concerned for his health, and carried on after the others.

"I guess I'll just guard the Docks then, and the boat."

Helgi groaned as he got to his feet. Looking around, he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. He picked up his spear and resumed his post.

"Now where is my helmet?"

* * *

Hiccup straggled behind the group, trying to keep up with his father's blistering pace whilst also gawping at the village around him. Village was perhaps not the right word. Despite the lack of people at the docks, just over the lip of a small hill were more people than he had ever seen before, other than at a packed Thing. Countless buildings stood in neat rows and clusters, with wide thoroughfares flooded with people.

Each house had some sort of shop or trader working within. Butchers displayed great hunks of meat, whilst tanners hung out racks of animal hide to dry in the sun. Stalls in the street sold everything from cabbages to cloaks, shields and salted beef. His stole a glance at a Blacksmith as they walked by. There were stack of raw iron piled up to the ceiling, and multiple smiths working at different anvils. Weapons hung from hooks on the walls, a thousand different ways to kill a man, all in one building. He was speechless from the first blacksmith, when he passed another on the other side of the road. He was overwhelmed.

" _Two_ blacksmiths in one town? How can anyone live at that speed?" He whispered to Gobber. His mentor just turned and smiled at him.

Stoick was leading them further and further into the labyrinth of houses. As the streets hemmed in, the crush of humanity became unbearable. The entire town was like the inside of the great hall at a feast. Hundreds of different voices filled the air, blending together into a constant, deafening buzz. It took all of his mental strength to keep his composure, despite the desperate urge to run. Having grown up on Berk, he had never had to deal with such a mass of people. Men shouted at each other across the street. Women bartered angrily with shopkeepers, whilst children played and ran around the feet of the adults oblivious to the stresses above them.

For once, Hiccup was happy he was so small. He followed easily behind Gobber and Stoick, who were clearing a wide path through the crowd with their beefy shoulders. Those who they pushed turned around in annoyance, but they stopped to stare at the strangers as they muscled their way towards the centre of town. Other than that, they went mostly unnoticed, especially Hiccup himself.

The ground began to rise, and Hiccup could just make out a large hall at the top of a hill in front of them. He assumed that the Jarl would be there, but there were so many bodies that he couldn't be sure. They soon came to a sturdy wooden palisade at the base of the small hill. It was right in the middle of the village, and the streets ran a full loop around it, curving around in either direction. They had stopped abruptly at a gate, and he glanced around Gobber to see Stoick in furious conversation with the man from the dock and another set of guards. They waited for a few minutes, enduring the looks and stares of the passers-by, before they were finally admitted into the keep.

At the top of the hill sat the great hall that Hiccup had seen earlier. There were no buildings immediately around it, just a grassy slope that lead down to the palisade, which separated the keep from the rest of the town. The hall was larger and more solid than the one on Berk. Made mostly of stone, it spoke of power and strength, with great glass windows running all the way up to the roof. The roof itself leant out over each end of the rectangular structure, and the thick, tapered beam that ran along its length ended in a decorative dragon's head. It seemed generic, similar to a Monstrous Nightmare but thicker, like a Gronckle. Whoever made it clearly had no idea what dragons really looked like. A narrow track lead up the hill and to the ornate wooden doors that marked the entrance.

From his vantage point above the rest of the buildings, Hiccup could back down to the docks, and for miles inland, where fields of crops and animal pens were divided by a long snaking river. He shuddered. If this was a small town in the North of the Kingdom, he could hardly imagine what the capital must look like. Truly, he had seen nothing of the world.

Away from the chaos of the streets, he could finally hear what Stoick was saying to the now significant amount of guards that were watching their every move. Hiccup began to see why Astrid needed to be hidden, at least until Stoick's plan went into action.

"You must forgive us, Stoick of Berk. Your visit was quite unexpected, and the Jarl is not ready to receive guests."

"Yes, and it was unexpected for us as well. I can assure you, we would not have come unannounced if it was not so urgent."

Gobber turned to Hiccup, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Tell me lad, are ya nervous?

"Well yeah, who wouldn't be?"

"Well just remember why we came, and don't say anything rash." He turned back to Stoick, but then thought better of it, leaning close to Hiccup and speaking quietly.

"Your Father and Raynir might be old friends, but don't let that fool you. He is still the leader of this tribe, so try not to upset him." Gobber eyed the nearby soldiers as he spoke. The Swedes were not as strong, but they had much better armour and weapons that they could ever hope to have on Berk, not to mention that they completely outnumbered the Hooligan trio.

"Don't worry, I won't say anything."

"Aye, that's good of you boy. I've lost an arm and a leg, and I'd prefer to keep my head if you know what I mean."

"The Jarl will now grant you an audience!" announced a nearby guard. From the majestic way that proclaimed the news, Hiccup half expected a fanfare as the great doors opened. Alas, those neat details were reserved only for the stories. The door itself was more than made up for it, however. It was wide enough for 8 warriors to charge through at once, and tall enough for a Zippleback to rear up in anger.

The interior was brightly lit, with torch sconces at regular intervals. The stone walls were polished, and seemed to reflect the light into the back of the room, where upon a flight of steps, a great throne of rare oak sat, decorated with silver dragons. The ceiling was built high, so that any visitors would be forced to gaze up at the elaborate timber craftsmanship that held up the roof, before looking down to the throne. The occupant, however, was less impressive.

Dressed in a simple tunic that was a little too tight around the waist, he wore no crown, weapons, or armour. The only mark of his status was the bright, velvet cloak about his shoulder, tipped with the glowing white fur of an Arctic fox. Jarl Raynir was as old as his father, but possessed a vibrancy that made him years younger. Less wrinkled and greyed by the stress of running running a tribe that was constantly under attack. His light brown hair was worn loose and natural, but his beard was tamed to only a thick stubble. Between the two his clear blue eyes flicked between his guests with a childlike energy. He rose immediately to greet them, a practiced and eager host.

"Stoick!" he boomed. His somewhat unfamiliar accent filled the spacious hall.

"How long has it been? My old friend, come to visit! And Gobber, you have fewer legs than I remember."

"Aye, and you're fatter than I expected."

The room fell silent for a second. Hiccup closed his eyes, fearing that they had already insulted the most powerful man in the tribe. The silence seemed to go on forever, each second grinding painfully past.

Just as it was becoming unbearable, the three men, all at once broke into raucous laughter. Apparently, they were older friends than Hiccup had been lead to believe. Raynir slapped Gobber on the back, and gripped Stoick by the arm band.

"Well that's the price of living well!" Raynir slapped his stomach. He might have been a little on the large side, but Hiccup did not doubt that he was stronger than most of the Hooligan tribe.

"Come, you must tell me of your travels, I hope that my guards didn't give you any trouble. You! Clamm you gormless sod. Find the servants and fetch the tables, tonight we are having a feast!"

A few minutes later, the hall was swarming with staff, carrying all manner of plates and furniture from the basement and a series of adjoining rooms. A great stone hearth was prepared, rows of thick, uncut logs were laid on the tinder. They would be getting through a whole tree by the looks of it. Raynir, Stoick and Gobber were deep in conversation, and from what Hiccup could tell, he had not yet been noticed. They were still reminiscing of great battles and female conquests, standing in the middle of the hall with a round of drinks, ignoring the servants scurrying around them. It was amazing, within an hour, it was like they had never been gone. Raynir was ranting about some quest they had gone on in their youth, loud enough for the entire hall to hear, and those closest to him to flinch at every word

"And then, you remember Bolli Bolasson? When he went looking for his stolen axe in the palace, and stumbled into the empress's bedchambers!" Hiccup had never seen Stoick laugh so much in his life. Gobber maybe, but his father had always seemed reserved and impossible to please. He suspected that necessity was not the only reason that they had chosen Marauder's Bay of all places.

"Ah Stoick, you should have gone back to Miklagard, with me. They actually pay us a wage now, but we can still keep the loot!"

"Once is enough to last any man a lifetime. Although maybe one day my son might see the great walls of the Greek City."

"Your son? How is he doing, I haven't heard about him in years. Last time I saw him he was just a babe."

Slowly, the attention turned to Hiccup, and it took a moment for Raynir to realise who the silent stranger was.

"Wait, _this_ is your son. For the love of Odin Stoick aren't you feeding him?"

A familiar pain flashed across Stoick's face. It was difficult to hide his disappointment in his son, especially when they met new and important people.

"Well we'll soon change that. Clamm! Where is that feast?"

"Sir, they've only just started cooking, the feast is due for this evening and…"

"Bah! Don't remind me. Just bring us some more drinks, and some seats for my guests, please!"

"Yes Sir"

Large, padded chairs were brought for the four of them. Hiccup's legs did not quite reach the ground, so he had to sit balanced on the front of the chair. It wasn't ideal, but at least he didn't look like a complete imbecile.

Stoick's face darkened as he prepared for more serious talk. He had yet to explain the purpose of the visit, and delaying any longer would be an abuse of hospitality. Raynir sensed the change and leaned in closer, ready to hear what Stoick had to offer.

"Raynir, my old friend. There is a reason we have come. In truth, there are dark times on Berk, and we need your help."

Raynir said nothing, only rubbing his chin and nodding to continue.

"The tribe has rebelled against my family, and thrown us off the island, we barely escaped with our lives."

"WHAT! You are the best chief that island has seen in generations. Why would they do this to you?"

"We tried…" Stoick glanced at his son, picking his words carefully. "We managed to train a captured dragon."

Raynir froze, a small smile spreading across his face. Concern for his friend stopped him from being truly elated, but it was obvious that the news interested him greatly. For the first time that afternoon, the man was truly speechless.

"How… Who?"

"You'll have to ask my son. It was he who tamed the beast."

All eyes swivelled towards Hiccup. For the second time he found himself the centre of attention. They all stared at him, waiting for an answer.

"Oh…" he coughed "Well, uh. I guess that I shot it down with a bola. I found it in the forest and I uh… trained it."

"But why did it not just burn you to a crisp and chew the bones? Why didn't it carry you away to its nest to feed its hatchlings?

"It couldn't fly, it was injured. I brought her food and, well… it just happened."

"Her?"

"Astrid, we call her Astrid. She's gotta have a name right?"

Raynir sat back, deep in thought. He wanted to believe the boy, he truly did, but it just seemed impossible, especially from such a weedy figure. He sat up, decision made.

"I'm sorry Stoick, but I'm afraid I can't quite fathom how this 'Hiccup' of yours could ever grapple with the fiery beasts. I'll believe it when I see it."

Stoick grinned. His plan was working perfectly.

"Well as it happens, we have the Dragon with us. Down at the docks, she's stored on her boat."

"WHAT! It's here? A live dragon? Quickly, we must get down to the docks. Now!"

A scrum of servants rushed to remove Raynir's ceremonial cloak and replace it with a more practical overoat. The chairs were removed and a path to the doorway was cleared. Raynir practically flew out the door and down the pathway, muttering as he went.

"A dragon! In my village? What would my ancestor's say?"

He paused for a second near the gate, and looked around for one of his men.

"Clamm. Aren't you supposed to be guarding the docks? Tell me, who is with that Dragon?"

"Don't worry sir, it's in good hands. Helgi is watching over the docks."

"Helgi? Odin save us. We have to hurry!"

* * *

"Well, this must be most interesting vessel I ever did see..." Helgi was wandering around the deck, soaking wet after retrieving his helmet. There was still a bit of seaweed wrapped around the horns. His mechanical mind was naturally interested in the strange ship that the Islanders had arrived in. It was seaworthy, and yet only big enough for five or six crew at most, four if they were all as big as the red head.

"Oh, so this steers… and the rudder, is at the back." He stepped round the cabin leaving damp footprints and looked over the edge, humming to himself. As he squeezed back round, he heard a strange, guttural growl from behind the door. He put it down to his imagination, or just the wood groaning as he stepped on it. There was a shifting and scratching noise, and the deck rocked from side to side. There was _definitely_ something in there. He lowered his spear, and took a nervous step towards the door.

"Who goes there, friend or foe? I'm warning you, I am a seasoned warrior, one of Jarl Raynir's personal guard."

The wood on each side began to bulge slightly, as if it was being inflated from within. Helgi stopped and stared at the door, suddenly a lot more worried about what was inside.

"Helgi! Wait!"

He turned towards the familiar voice. Clamm was running down the hill to meet him. From the look on his face it was clearly urgent. Helgi was shocked to see the stangers and the Jarl himself crest the hill shortly afterwards. " _They must be coming to inspect the ship."_ He reasoned.

He leant on the cabin with one hand, trying to look as relaxed and professional as possible.

"Don't worry sir, I've got it all under con-

The cabin exploded outwards, shards of wood showering the dock. Helgi was sent screaming into the water, such was the sheer force. The small wooden structure simply disappeared, and in its place, was very large, and very annoyed dragon.

Raynir and his men stood and gawped open mouthed at the creature that had just annihilated half of the ship without breaking a sweat. As the last of the splinters rained down, a Viking helmet landed flush on Astrid's snout. She was cross eyed looking at it, and huffed. With a flick of her head, it was firmly embedded in a thick wooden mooring pillar.

Astrid stood and stared at the party that had run down to the docks. She could see that Stoick Gobber and Hiccup were still alive, which was promising. She ached all over from being cramped up for so long in such a confined space. She hopped onto the jetty and stretched her wings, giving them a flap for good luck. She was rewarded with a round of 'Oohs' and 'Ahhs' from the audience. She couldn't help but snort with laughter.

Alone, Hiccup peeled away from the main group, stepping forward to greet her. He made a deliberate show of approaching carefully, and gently patting her on the nose before touching her anywhere else. As one, the crowd gasped as she leant down to lick her best friend. Hiccups laughter seemed to put them at ease, and they edged ever closer, shuffling along the deck.

"Great work Astrid. Sorry about the cabin, but we had to do it for the plan to work."

Astrid put her paws forward, stretching her back and moaning in relief.

 **"** **That's okay, I'm just glad to see that you're fine."**

"Yeah, I'm glad to see you too. Still, we've got a job to do. Remember _nice dragon_." She snorted a laugh.

 **"** **Since when have I ever played nice? Oh hello. You must be Jarl Raynir. If you're careful I might not eat you and your family.** "

The Jarl had led the group right up to the Night Fury, just out of reach. Hiccup's relaxed attitude reassured them slightly.

"Hold out your hand. Now say hello to Astrid the Night Fury."

Hiccup guided his hand onto Astrid's snout whilst she sat patiently. It reeked of fear and ale. Two fairly common odours, having lived near Hiccup and Vikings respectively. The Jarl's caution quickly gave way to amazement.

"She beautiful, so sleek, and so dangerous."

 **"** **You don't know the half of it, Buddy."**

He felt her scales and her wings, which she unfurled to oblige him. With his surprisingly soft fingers, Raynir caressed the thin membrane, tracing the individual veins that were highlighted against the sinking sun. He inspected each claw with reverent attention, the wound having miraculously healed over. A patch of slightly lighter scales was the only evidence of the grievous injury. He frowned, tugging on a leather buckle around her midriff. Astrid didn't react, although it pinched more than she would have liked.

"And what is this your dragon is… wearing." In a flash, Hiccup was at his side, guiding his hand away from the delicate mechanisms.

"Do you remember when I said she was injured?" Hiccup pointed at the artificial tailfin. Without all this, she can't fly."

The Jarl ran his hands along the length of the tail, Astrid lifting it from the floor for his benefit. He pulled the tailfin open, almost as interested in the contraption as he was at the dragon. Out of the corner of his eye, Hiccup noticed Stoick and Gobber examining the saddle and pedals. It occurred to him that they were as ignorant as Jarl as to what he and Astrid had really been doing together.

"But how does it control the wing. This is just made out of leather."

"Well that's just the thing, in order to fly, she needs a rider."

There was a sharp intake of breath from every member of the crowd. Raynir almost looked horrified, but the shock was much more telling. For the first time, muttering broke out amongst the group. They could believe that the Dragon was tamed, but a rider seemed a step too far. Stoick laughed nervously, stepping forward and placing a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Hiccup, what are you saying? Remember what we agreed."

"But its true dad! Look, why else would she have a saddle."

"A saddle? Hiccup that's enough!"

Stoick started to drag Hiccup away, but stopped abruptly." Astrid's growl was long and loud, her teeth fully extended. Immediately, weapons were drawn, all held ready to strike the beast down. She paced forward slowly, right up to Stoick's frozen face.

She fixed him with her eyes, the same look that she had shown Hiccup so long ago. For the first time, the chief began to waver. He didn't want to give up his son, but he did not want to die so far from home. Hiccup acted quickly to defuse the situation.

"It's okay everyone! Please don't antagonise her." He turned to his father, who slowly released his iron grip.

"Dad, it's okay. She's still Astrid. Just let me show you."

Stoick looked down to his son, and back up into the forest green eyes of the Night Fury. He closed his eyes, and nodded reluctantly his approval.

Without another word, Hiccup clambered onto Astrid's back, and hooked himself into the saddle. He tested the pedals, happy that they were still working after all they had been through. The fin flapped open and closed, just like its real counterpart. Astrid lowered her haunches, ready to pounce. Her giant wings stretched out to their fullest extent.

"You ready Bud?"

 **"** **Let's do this!"**

Gobber tapped Raynir with his hook. "You might want to step back a tad…"

With a single flap and a powerful leap, she shot into the air in a vertical climb. All the ships in the harbour rocked with the force of a gale, and the jetty immediately beneath her shattered under the strength of the blow.

Hiccup was pushed to the back of the saddle as Astrid pumped her wings, carrying them as high as the twin peaks in a matter of seconds. She levelled off, matching the changes that Hiccup made with the pedals. They circled round the bay, to cries of astonishment from below. In a series of tight and twisting turns, they gained more and more altitude, before they rolled inverted and glided upside down towards the sea.

"Yeah! What do you say we give that Jarl a scare or two?"

 **"** **I'm way ahead of you!"**

They had drifted out over the ocean, but looped back inwards towards the shore. Still carrying the speed from their sudden descent, they shot between the twins and raced back towards the village. Astrid began to build up her fire, a steady rush of air fanning the flames within her. A high whistle began to ring around their ears. They dropped further still, picking up even more speed as they followed the gentle path of the fjord. They were skimming the water as they rounded on the docks, tearing towards them like a hurricane. The whistling became a wail, which became a deafening scream, until she loosed her deadly projectile straight at the Jarl.

He stood, stunned, even as Stoick and Gobber took cover on the ground, their instincts honed by years of dragon raids. A streak of blue flashed across the water at an impossible speed, bursting just in front of the jetty. A bright flash stole their vision for an instant, before a black shape swept by, inches above their helmets.

The pair pulled up sharply, turning all of their speed into height. They were lifted upwards by the heat of the blast, until they gently peaked, and began to fall back to earth. Astrid bellowed with excitement, her tongue hanging out in the rushing wind. She spread her wings, and settled comfortably into a glide.

They drifted slowly towards the great hall with the last of their energy, in full view of the town. They heard whoops and cheers from below, as the populace filled the streets to see the magnificent spectacle. Below, Astrid could make out the Jarl and his men, pushing through the crowd to get back to the hall.

Without another beat of her wings, Astrid settled on the roof of the structure. Standing tall and proud above the seat of power. Perched on the decorative dragon's head at the tip of the wooden beam, she grinned as saw the Jarl struggle up the hill towards them. With all her strength, she roared a cry of sheer, boisterous delight, which echoed across the town and the distant mountains.

The Jarl arrived at the doors, out of breath and with significantly fewer eyebrows. A servant rushed him a mug of ale, which he downed in one.

"Clamm! Whatever the servants are cooking, tell them to double it. Tonight we will feast with a Dragon!"

* * *

For a man who was so animated when sober, it was expected that the Jarl became larger than life itself after his sixth pint of ale. There were hundreds of guests, and tables piled high with rich and greasy food. Whole joints of mutton, vast strips of salted beef, a mountain of smoked and shredded ham hock, and a sad looking bowl of vegetables near the back. Needless to say, there might as well have been a river of drink flowing out the door. The celebration was in full swing, extending beyond the hall down the hill, and overflowing into the streets. As for the Jarl, there was not a happier man in all the world, surrounded by friends, food, fire, and above all a coveted Dragon.

Astrid herself took centre stage within the hall, and the men took turns to toss fish in the air, which she leapt and caught with practiced ease. With the saddle removed and safely stored away, she was much more nimble in the air, even if she couldn't fly. She loved being in the centre of attention, but most of all, she loved living amongst her people, without fear of being hunted or attacked. After so long hiding away from civilisation, to be accepted once again was a feeling beyond words.

As the men became steadily drunker, the throws became more erratic, and the leaps became higher and faster. Some of the completely senseless partygoers tried to climb onto her back like hiccup had earlier. She quickly knocked them down with a well-timed head-butt, causing the rest of the hall to erupt in laughter.

Hiccup was standing quietly to one side, watching the frivolity with amusement. He felt a familiar hand on his shoulder. From the spark in his eye, he could tell that Stoick had been drinking, but he had no idea how much. His father could drink for days without stopping, which he unfortunately knew from experience.

"Hiccup."

"Yes dad?"

"I just wanted to say… I… I'm."

"It's okay dad, I understand."

"No Hiccup, you don't. I'm sorry, sorry for everything. I meant it. You have done something that no Viking in history could have ever even tried."

"I couldn't have done anything without Astrid."

"You saved her Hiccup, do you realise? You have saved the life of that poor girl who was imprisoned in that body."

There was a cheer as Astrid crashed into a thankfully empty table after her most recent and audacious catch.

"I'm proud, to call you my son."

There were tears in both of their eyes, as Hiccup wordlessly reached out and squeezed his Father's arm. He turned to follow Astrid, who was trotting towards the door.

As they emerged onto the packed hill, another round of cheers filled the night air. It seemed the entire bay had turned up to show their approval for the great Dragon and its rider. A thousand specks of light filled the town, each one an untold story of joy and romance. It was as if a collective nervous energy had been released all at once, and the people were loving it.

"I thought Dragons were supposed to be evil."

Two figures were sat nearby, deep in conversation on a bench outside the great doors. Apparently, they were oblivious to the Night Fury that was stood within clawing range.

"Why do you say that Helgi?"

"Well Clamm, I've heard that they kill and steal from the island tribes as a matter of routine. It's that kind of behaviour that might lend itself to an inherently evil disposition."

"I suppose you're on to something. Still, do you think that Dragons are able to fully comprehend the duality of good and evil? Must they be so irrevocably positioned on one side of the spectrum as to have no knowledge of any alternatives?"

"Well that's just the thing. Clearly, that dragon we saw earlier has, on its own accord, grappled with this very moral conundrum and proved itself entirely capable of being good, suggesting a higher level of reasoning then perhaps we give them credit for."

"That may well be true Helgi. But then again, maybe it is evil, and the reason we were spared was because _we_ were just as bad as it. Perhaps in our haste to condemn the beast, we have forgotten our own, considerable shortfalls."

"That's crazy, we are clearly the good guys in this grand narrative that is our lives."

"Can you imagine if someone told the story of our lives as a narrative, perhaps even writing it down? As a book, or something."

"Well knowing us Clamm, we'd probably just be minor characters, you know how it goes…"

Hiccup and Astrid looked at each other, sharing a similarly clueless expression. They quickly went back inside, where the feast had reached its climax. A handful of unconscious Vikings and a crowd full of drunk ones surrounded a small table pressed up against a wall of fat barrels.

Raynir was challenging his men to a drinking game, but Gobber was proving to be more than a match. After ten pints, straight out of the tap, it seemed as if neither would give an inch. The watching audience were laughing with amazement more than anything. They both slammed their mugs on the table, empty again. Suddenly, Raynir stood up, causing a few of his followers to fall back in surprise.

"That's it!" He slurred, struggling to stay on his feet. "The first to finish, an entire barrel, shall be… the winner!" He collapsed back into his chair, feeling blindly for his tankard.

Astrid chirped for Hiccup's attention, a mischievous look on her face.

 **"** **Guess what, I'm going to do something stupid"**

"Oh no Astrid, that's your ' _I'm going to do something stupid'_ face."

 **"** **Just watch."** Astrid laughed as she trotted over to the gathering.

All the men gasped as she stretched up, selecting a barrel near the top of the pile. She opened her mouth wide, and with a sharp claw punched a plate-sized hole near the bottom of the wooden container. Gallons of thick, sweet, dark brown mead gushed into her waiting maw. For a good thirty seconds, the flow of liquid was uninterrupted, until she grasped it between her claws and leant back, looking to swallow all of it.

She leant too far and lost her balance, toppling backwards onto the reed covered floor. Still gripping the barrel, she grasped it with all four claws and squeezed it till it shattered, not a drop left within it.

"We have a champion!" Rowdy applause filled the hall, and Astrid roared up at the ceiling from her somewhat compromised position on the floor.

"Astrid? Astrid? Are you okay? Look at me Astrid."

 **"** **Hey Hiccup… Did I ever tell you what nice hair you have? Soft… smooth…"**

"Get off my head. Thor, what is the matter with you?"

It was well documented what would happen to a dragon when a sword was thrust through its scales, or a hammer crush its bones. What was less well known, was the effect of large quantities of alcohol on a Dragon's social skills. With the end of her third barrel, Astrid was on the verge of a significant scientific breakthrough.

 **"** **Gobber… can I try on your hand, it looks so shiny. Just one little taste… Aww stop it Hiccup"**

"Astrid what are you doing? You must be sick or something. No you can't eat Gobber's other leg, he needs it for walking."

Astrid nudged an empty mug towards Hiccup with her snout, concentrating obscenely hard to move it exactly how she wanted.

"No Astrid, I can't drink. There are heavyweights and there are lightweights. I have _no_ weight."

 **"** **Come on, you'll love it. I used to be a dragon till I started drinking…"**

She lifted picked him up by his scruff with sheathed teeth, and carried him over to the still massive reserve of mead and ale. She couldn't hear his complaints over the sound of muffled, draconic laughter.

"Well okay, I guess one drink couldn't hurt."

With that, an hour had gone by, and they were having the time of their lives.

Somewhere, somebody was playing some music, and everyone that was still awake found an empty space or a table to dance on. It was astonishing that each Viking was dancing to a separate tune, despite there being just a single troop of musicians.

 **"** **Come on Hiccup, it's our time to shine."**

"Whatever you sayahhhh…."

Astrid had picked him up again and was whirling him round the room at a frightening speed, but Hiccup didn't seem to mind.

"Yeah… This is amazing!"

Astrid laughed a deep laugh, and pulled Hiccup in close to her with her claws. He was powerless to resist. She was still spinning, and lost her balance, falling through a small side door, smashing it to pieces. Nobody came after them. They were in an empty storeroom, everything had been used for the feast, and they found themselves alone.

Hiccup had landed on top of Astrid, hysterical. He looked up into her eyes and she looked back, sobering up just a fraction.

 **"** **You know, if you were a dragon…"**

"Or if you weren't."

They both looked shocked, neither one expecting Hiccup's response.

 **"** **Screw it Hiccup, I love you."**

"I love you too Astrid."

They lay there together, as the night drew on and the moon sank below the horizon, and a new day bathed in the light of the dawning sun.

* * *

 **I've spoken with your friends, and we all think that the best thing for you to do right now is review, and possibly follow. Its the only way to achieve your life's ambitions.**


	16. Chapter 16

The rights to 'How to Train Your Dragon' were designed in 1936 by R. , who sadly died before he could see his invention take to the skies and protect the free world from the steel boot of oppression during the world's darkest, and finest hour.

 **I know** **what you're thinking.**

 **"My goodness, your still alive!"**

 **"Good heavens, I'd given you up for dead" "**

 **I say, its about time for an update! Honestly, writers have no respect for their audience these days. Back when I were a lad, people finished the jobs they started and just got on with it. If we had given up back in 1940, where would you kids be today, eh?"**

 **Etc etc etc...**

 **I will explain my absence afterwards. Finally, here is chapter 16. I sincerely hope you enjoy :D**

* * *

There was no ceremony or fanfare to Angarr officially becoming Chief. Most of the village woke from a troubled sleep, if they had slept at all, to find Stoick and his family gone, replaced by ash and madness.

There was no cheering as he forced the elder to daub the blood-soaked paste on his forehead, a symbol of the Chief's battle prowess, and his follower's adoration. Even those he considered friends stared on with hard looks as he fumbled with the buckle, trying to tighten the ceremonial belt around his waist, eyes scratched and raw from lack of sleep.

Stoick had not been found. He had fled out to sea with Gobber and that wretched boy, Stoick's prized vessel noticeably missing from its proud mooring at the head of the harbour. Even worse, the Night Fury was nowhere to be seen. The tracks were scattered, confusing, like the creature had dragged itself to a watery inlet, only to disappear. Anything else had either been washed away or obliterated by the dragon's tail. Dried blood on the sand was the only other clue they had.

The fire had finally died out by the afternoon, but not before it had eaten its way through two neighbouring houses and a store shed, packed with winter supplies. Charred wooden skeletons stood out against the first, light dusting of snow that had fallen, weeks earlier than predicted. Angarr stood atop the village, watching the homeless families, soot stained and desperate, picking through what was left of their lives.

A young, strong looking boy with a mop of black hair was picking at the rubble, frantically searching for something. Angarr's heart jolted when he saw the boy's face, and for a second, it almost seemed as if Spitelout was still alive and kicking. Even from a distance, he could see the boy's tears. A biting wind tugged at his hair and stung his exposed neck. He could have sworn that he heard a dragon roaring, far out to sea. Perhaps not roaring, laughing, maybe.

"Chief"

It took him a few seconds to tear his eyes away from the misery in front of him. When he finally turned, a cluster of nervous warriors stood, huddled and shivering, idle and lost. Maybe it was exhaustion, or shock, but Angarr couldn't remember a single one of their names.

"Sir, what should we do?"

Angarr sighed and rubbed his eyes, leaving the question hanging longer than he had any right to.

"We will do what we've always done. We're Vikings after all!"

The man, who had unintentionally become the leader of the little group, stared up at the chief with despair.

"Where should we start? There are families without homes, and we barely have enough wood to rebuild them."

"Then they can share with others, as we have done in the past."

"There aren't enough beds, or furs for that matter, how will we stay warm?"

"Burn the wreckage, I don't see the problem here. Besides, a dragon attack will warm them up a little."

"Dragon attack? Don't you think we should be worrying about defences at all? Stoick would never have…"

"DO NOT speak his name here! I am in charge of this village now, and you will do as I command."

"But sir, the problems! The food, the housing, winter, the dragons! If they attack now we are all…"

"I know DAMN WELL what the problems are, and they are not going to solve themselves if we just STAND HERE LIKE IDIOTS!"

The men recoiled at the outburst. With Stoick gone, they were lost. Even those who had helped depose him now wandered aimlessly about the hardened ground. Angarr sighed again, turning back to watch the plight of the homeless. It seemed that Vikings needed to be told what to do and when to do it. Their stiff obedience often hid their astonishing lack of initiative, at least for the common folk. That's why they liked, nay, loved Stoick. A staunch traditionalist, until he went insane. Angarr liked to think outside the box, but even for him taming a dragon, a Night Fury no less, was just unthinkable. Berk was better off without him, even if the rabble did not see it.

The men stood like sheep, shuffling nervously. They had all seen what had happened to Spitelout. Angarr did not turn to speak to them. These men needed orders, the village depended on it.

"The caves. What do we have in the caves?"

"The caves. What do you mean?"

"Just answer the damn question or I swear to Odin I'll have your head"

"The cold stores sir, most of the fresh meat and fish. They're not full but there –

"I want every man, women and child who can hold a pickaxe to report to the entrance. Get the fishermen out and working or we're all going to starve. Salvage what you can from the wreckage and bring all the spare timber. This will NOT be the end of Berk as long as I'm breathing."

* * *

War drums beat a marching tune inside Astrid's head. Light streamed in through the thin open windows, blinding her as she tried to force an eyelid open. She groaned loudly rolling to one side, and was rewarded with a sharp crack as a small table buckled under the weight. That was funny, she didn't remember her room having a table. Her throat was painfully dry, and her tongue felt numb. Covering her eyes with her wings, she tried to get back to sleep to escape the waking nightmare.

"Ohhh Astriiid…"

A soft voice sang her name nearby, but she didn't react. Something began to repeatedly poke her side, a regular prodding that matched the drums in her head.

"Astriiid…"

 **"** **No, just leave me… just, five more… hours"**

She drew into herself, wrapping her wings tighter around her head and retreating into a ball shape. She hoped that her father would get the message. She didn't want to do training today, she was too ill.

"Come on Astrid, it's time to get up now…"

Astrid didn't move an inch. She was committed to ignoring the voice and the prodding, no matter how long it went on for. She would stand her ground. She felt the tiny hands pushing and shoving against her with all their strength. She smiled at the pitiful efforts of her baby brother, he could be so annoying sometimes. If she had the energy she would pour a jug of yak's milk all over his head. She snorted and began to drift back towards unconsciousness.

"Oh move yourself you overgrown lizard!"

 **"** **What?"**

Her eyes snapped open, and she went almost cross-eyed focusing on a blurry Hiccup, who had a ridiculous smile plastered across his face.

 **"** **Who, what… what are you doing in my… AAHHH!"**

Astrid flapped violently, pawing the air in panic. Adrenaline caused her eyes to slit and he vision to darken, she screamed for help but could only hear a dragon.

"Astrid, ASTRID, it's me!"

 **"** **Oh, oh no no. I'm fine. This is real. I remember now."** She dragged herself up, the drums intensifying in her head, as she slowly got her breath back.

 **"** **I just… I don't know."**

"Do you just kind of lose it, for a second?" She nodded, and then slumped back to the ground, immediately regretting her decision. She buried her head under her paws one more time. Hiccup slid up beside her, and wrapped his arms around one of hers.

"I'm sorry if I scared you. I forget how hard it is sometimes, you know?"

Astrid groaned in understanding, lifting her head once again. She managed a weak smile, and gave him a small lick.

"You smell like my dad does most nights. Sometimes I find it hard to believe that drinking is good for you. It just doesn't seem worth it."

 **"** **Really, and what gave you that idea?"**

Hiccup smiled blankly and cocked his head deep in thought. Astrid frowned, he looked more like an idiot than he usually did. She gently tapped his nose and he sprung out of the trance.

"Right" he said springing to his feet, "There's somebody you should meet."

The Great Hall was filled with bodies, but they all seemed to be breathing. Most were in as compromising a position as the night before, some were sprawled out across a table, others under it. A few had found a chair and one was upside-down in an empty barrel. The first prize, however, went to a small, ginger Viking that found himself hanging from one of the great chandeliers, fast asleep and drooling onto his friends below. Stoick and Gobber were nowhere to be seen, but Jarl Raynir was slumped unconscious on his throne, a jug on his head and a thin ornate silver helmet in his hand.

The only movement came from a tall, blond women moving amount the men picking up cups and muttering something about "bloody Vikings…" lifting the edges of her apron, she carefully stepped over a lake of mead and slid up next to Raynir, swapping the crown and the jug.

She smiled when she noticed the visitors and came back across the hall to meet them.

"Ah, the guest of honour, I'd wondered where you'd gone." She spoke softly, addressing the dragon.

"Astrid, this is Lydia, she's the queen, uh …chiefess, jarletta?"

"Just call me Lydia, Raynir is my husband, so I guess that means I'm in charge of Marauder's Bay" she chuckled to herself. Astrid glanced at Hiccup, smiling. Lydia didn't tower over Hiccup, but she was just taller than her husband and her hair brushed against the top of Hiccup's head. She knelt down so that they could be at the same level, and Astrid could detect a hint of some mysterious flower or plant on her person. It felt oddly familiar, but she was certain that she had never smelled it before. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was strange.

She stared into Astrid's eyes for a few moments, apparently unafraid. Her eyes were an unusual shade of dark brown that stood out amongst the piercing blue of most Vikings. Certainly, Astrid had never seen eyes quite like hers. The women slowly tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, searching for something. Astrid began to shy away, uncomfortable with this stranger who was almost peering into her soul. Noticing her discomfort, Lydia smiled and broke eye contact before frowning for a second and glancing at Hiccup. "Are you certain that it can understand what we're saying?"

" _She_ \- and yes, Astrid can hear every word."

"Well, if you say so. I've never seen a dragon that can communicate with humans before." Astrid flared her nostrils.

 **"** **Well, I'm not really a dragon am I?"**

Hiccup lay a calming hand on her head. "You say that like your familiar with dragons…"

She stood up and laughed. "Oh I've had an encounter or two, never with a Night Fury though. I always thought they were just made up. I used to live on an island myself Mr Haddock, before I came here." She gestured to the shambolic hall and her husband behind her. She stared off into space, lost in some happy memory as a smile spread across her face. "I can tell the difference between a Common Brown and a Boulder-Wing."

"Common Brown?"

"Aye, small, but with sharp teeth and claws. They always stole my socks, but only the left ones…"

Hiccup grinned, "I think we would call that a terror. A 'Boulder-Wing', would be short and tough right? With tiny wings and a big appetite?"

"Precisely."

"Gronkle, although 'Boulder-Wing' makes more sense now that I think about it…"

Lydia leaned down in front of Astrid. "I've never seen anything as beautiful as you, though. Will she mind if I…"

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" Hiccup folded his arms, looking smug.

"Okay then. Astrid, do you mind?"

 **"** **Lay your hand on me and you lose it."** Astrid growled, shrinking low to the ground, grinning.

Lydia stepped backwards nervously, glancing over at Hiccup, silently urging him to call his dragon back, or at least calm it down. He didn't and the Night Fury crept closer, teeth fully bared. Astrid could already detect the smell of fear. She stopped suddenly.

Hiccup and Astrid looked at each other, and burst out laughing. Lydia was not impressed.

"Well, at least you have a sense of humour, Astrid."

"Go on, she won't bite… much,"

Astrid lay on her side in front of the Jarl's wife, tongue hanging out, with a huge smile on her face. In truth, she was loving the attention, and purred as Lydia's cool hands began to stroke underneath her chin, utterly engrossed in the texture of the scales. They ran down her sides, feeling each scale individually, pressing gently against the thick black coat. Astrid closed her eyes in bliss and rolled fully over, exposing her belly. For once her instincts didn't scream out that she was in danger, as she had felt with everyone that wasn't Hiccup since she had turned. She was beginning to feel secure, safe in a way that she hadn't felt in a very long time.

 **"** **Aww, Hiccup can we keep her? Please…"**

"I think she likes you Lydia. I bet you would get eaten last if it came to it."

Lydia laughed, mostly out of amazement. "She really is beautiful. Almost as beautiful as she is deadly. Look at these wings, and that tail! She must be quicker than lightning, strong too. Elastic as steel, I'll bet. I don't understand, how you managed to tame such an elusive creature."

Hiccup gestured to the leather tailfin, hanging limply from where it had come unravelled the night before. "The truth is ma'am, I didn't tame her at all. She was always dangerous, deadly even, and still is. I just had a feeling that beneath the armour and in between the claws, she was as desperate as I was."

Astrid, stared at Hiccup, and when he glanced over he could not draw his eyes away from hers.

"I had tried to catch her before. I drew up some crazy plans and made ridiculous promises to myself. I sat up at night building tools and machines, but in the end none of it mattered. I will never forget how lucky I was that you didn't just kill me, and I will never forget how lucky I am that you still put up with me. Unbelievable as it sounds, I didn't 'befriend' her; she befriended me."

They sat there, looking deep into each other. Astrid blinked back tears, overwhelmed. There was nothing she could say or do to express her gratitude to Hiccup, her saviour, her friend. All this time she was so amazed by what he had done for her that she had never wondered what she had meant to him. Alone, with few friends, bullied most of his life with no real family, not when Stoick had a village to run. She had always ignored him, despite what was clearly just an attempt to escape his solitary misery.

He had spent the time and effort looking after her, saving her from certain death, not because she wanted to live, but because he was terrified that he would lose what might be his only friend. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, with the realisation that Hiccup would never leave her, no matter what she was. For the first time in her life, she felt needed, not just thankful, not just desired or pursued. They needed each other, and that was priceless.

"Ahem…"

Lydia was stood awkwardly where they had left her.

"Yeah, sorry about that…"

"No, it's okay. I have heard about people like you. Dragon riders that have some kind of sacred bond with their companion. Again, I just thought it was a story, but then you turned up on a Night Fury and started flying all over the town and I suppose my-"

"Wait, WHAT? Dragon riders! What do you mean? How is that possible?"

"I thought you could tell me. You're the one they're calling the 'Dragon Master of Berk', or something like that."

Hiccup laughed, "Really, well I am from Berk and I do hang out with a Dragon, I suppose it works. But seriously, who else could possibly ride a Dragon, especially when everybody north of here is obsessed with making trophies out of their skulls."

Lydia, sighed heavily, and turned back towards the comatose Vikings. "All we ever get here is stories, Hiccup. Most are fuelled by my husband's obsession with the creatures, which was part of the reason we got married. He could have chosen any one of the King's daughters, but when I came running into the grove like the stupid child I was, shouting about a nest of Torch-Wings, he saw fit to marry me instead. Maybe he thought I could teach him something…"

Hiccup and Astrid shared a similar, worried expression as the women continued to lament.

"I remember how the fishing ships would track huge shoals of cod for days on end, right into the furthest north and the ice floes. After a few drinks, the sailors would tell stories of swarms of dragons, like seagulls but with teeth, diving and catching the fish as they flew out of the water."

As she turned back to face them, the tears in her eyes were unmistakeable, but she quickly wiped them away. She continued, the waver in her voice almost unnoticeable. Almost.

"According to one young fisherman, there was a man or at least something that looked like a man with huge black eyes and blue spines on his back, riding atop an enormous red dragon, and he could control them, and make them do what he wanted."

She closed her eyes and took another deep breath.

"Nobody believed poor Rolf of course, except me. I knew that he would always tell me the truth, we always told each other everything…"

 **"** **Maybe we should give her some space. Let her calm down or something."**

"Lydia, Lydia are you alright? That was uh… a nice story. Can I get you something to drink?"

She covered her face with her slim hands, and shuddered, coughed and then composed herself. She threw her head and hair backwards, chuckling and went back down on her knees, blinking rapidly. "No, I don't touch the stuff. It's just too barbaric." She stretched out her arms and gently took Astrid's head in her hands, once again looking for some hint of unspoken intelligence in the dragon's gaze, even as she spoke.

"Hiccup, you can stay here if you want, I'll make sure my husband will allow it, and I can personally guarantee your safety. I can't imagine that it's easy for you, what with the way you northerners treat small folk, and well, dragons. Just promise me one thing. Don't forget about your home, and where you come from. It is a part of you as much as you are a part of it. You have a right to be there, as much as you have a duty to defend it."

"I won't. I've spent my whole life on Berk. I don't know how I could possibly bring myself to hate it."

"Well that's good. Just remember. Home fades away quickly when you're a world away. Stay away long enough, and when you finally go back, it will seem so different, and you don't even realised you've changed. It is a terrible feeling to finally return and not get recognised by the ones you love."

"I guess you're right" he replied, looking down at Astrid, positively glowing, "but I've brought along everyone that is dear to me. Home isn't just a place, it's the people who live there, and I'm lucky enough to live with some amazing people."

* * *

"Quickly, finish up the exits, a storm is coming!"

Dark clouds were quickly swallowing up the idyllic red sky as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. The roar of distant thunder echoed across the water and shook the ground beneath them. Angarr counted the seconds between the flash and the boom. It was getting closer.

For days they had hammered and dug away at the mountain, digging deep, snaking tunnels into the solid rock. Everyone in the village had worked day and night to make them deep enough for everybody to shelter in, and yet it was barely enough. If the entire population was to cram inside, they would be packed into a tight mass, shivering together in the cold darkness. Most of the cattle and what was left of the supplies had been moved into the caves, and stacked carefully in separate storerooms. The animals suffered obliviously, not understanding why they had been denied their usual light, heat and food. They wandered around aimlessly, looking in vain for a place to graze. Their hooves clapped against the rocky floor as they searched for grass, whilst their owners supressed panic at the thought of the storm.

The biggest entrance was high up, near the elder's house, and from the broad stone platform Angarr could see the entire town from on high. The men around him were busy piling up wood and rocks on a crude frame in an attempt to block up the last passage into the mountain, ahead of the destructive weather. It was fairly amateurish, with a basic doorway taking shape where before there had been a jagged opening. With a solid piece of timber pulled across the entrance, it would stop most of the rain and wind. Considering that Vikings were not natural diggers, and this was their first attempt, it wasn't too bad.

The people of Berk were dotted about the village, collecting clothes, food and weapons to store in the rocky fortress. Like ants, they converged at the foot of the mountain, and formed a continuous flow of goods and materials, as they carried and dragged it up the steep steps that had been cut into the rock, before stumbling in and depositing it into their new nest. They were exhausted, but dragged on with their task, uncomplaining.

Bolts of light cut across the twisting black clouds, lighting the world for an instant and causing some of the workers to flinch. Few had ever seen such violent lightning but from the safety of their own homes, and those that had had always been in the empowering presence of Stoick. The thought of their homes and possessions being left alone and unattended made them sick to the core, but they carried on with typical, grim determination. They might have a new leader, but they were still Vikings.

The preparations were almost complete. Soon, they would have an impregnable shelter against all dragon attacks, and a safe place to store their food over the winter. In Angarr's mind it didn't matter that the fire had destroyed several families' houses, or that they were short on furs and medicine. With small, compulsory donations from each member of the community, they had quickly rebuilt the stores, and the homeless could live in the caves themselves. With the barn in cinders the mountain was the safest place for the animals during the cold nights, provided they were fed during the day. Sure, it meant that the old and the weak might die, but Angarr couldn't remember a winter where somebody didn't pass away. Berk would recover, and grow stronger. They just had to survive.

Another flash of lightning, lit up the sky, followed by another deep rumble, Angarr turned back to see the progress of his men. He froze suddenly, as second distant roar echoed off the cliff face.

He turned around, slowly, a chill running down his spine. His followers stopped, staring at the chief, and then out to sea. One of them had the courage to speak.

"That's some strange thunder…" Others murmured in agreement.

A burst of intense flashes, the biggest so far, lit up the entire town as the sun disappeared for good below the sea. As his men hid their eyes, Angarr forced himself to keep watching, and there was no mistaking the feeling of dread that clawed its way into his gut.

He wished that he was wrong, that he was just paranoid or starting to go insane. His legs buckled with a sudden weakness at the thought of what was coming. Eyes closed and hands on his head, he found himself - not for the first time - missing Stoick, who would have stood like a rock for others to lean on. Angarr frowned angrily, fist closing around the axe slung at his waist. He was not stoick, he was Angarr Chief of the Hairy Hooligans, and he would not let his people be wiped off the face of the Earth. Even if he paid for it with his life, he would get them all to safety. They would not die tonight. Filled with a new determination, he looked out to sea.

Another flash confirmed what he had just seen, as the sky was filled with hundreds of winged silhouettes… more than any Viking had ever seen. His worst fears had come true. This was no natural storm.

"DRAGONS!"

Somebody nearby sounded a horn that echoed across the village and back down the tunnel. Angarr shouted down to the people below, still clearing their homes of supplies and dragging them up the stone steps.

"GET INSIDE THE CAVES. DRAGON ATTACK!"

Angarr's words caused a ripple in the crowd as their mood immediately switched. Suddenly, possessions no longer mattered, as survival became the primary and universal goal.

Many of the warriors ran to the armouries and blacksmith, looking for weapons and armour. Most found them empty, and those that were lucky enough to find something were quick to drop their swords and run. With the steady flashes of lightning lighting the sky, the people of Berk were becoming aware of just how _many_ dragons they were faced with. It was obvious to the most bloodthirsty warrior that a counter attack would be suicide.

The horn sounded again, ringing out into the now pitch darkness. The flow of people up the steps became a rush as everyone piled through the entrance a great crush of humanity. Like filling a jug of water, they filled every nook and cranny as they struggled to fit the entire populace into the cramped interior. There was barely time to light a torch to keep them from total blackness.

The wind began to pick up, blasting the exposed mountain with the first droplets of stinging hail. Those around him redoubled their efforts, frantically piling on rocks and wood to help fortify the entrance against something much stronger than then the weather. Their fear of the dragons was overcome by the thought of their families within.

The lightning was only a few miles out to sea now, and they could hear the individual dragon screams over the thunder. The few who were still in or had gone back to the village had dropped everything and were running for the stone steps. Some slipped as the hail became thicker, soaking everything and everyone. They scrambled to get over each other as the wind started to hurl loose planks and rocks against the mountainside. They shattered and skirted off the rock face, showering the men with fragments.

"HURRY! THEY ARE ALMOST UPON US!" Angarr shouted orders to everyone and no-one at the same time. The last of the civilians had crushed into the mountain and the entrance had almost been sealed up and the workers beside him began to slip back inside. The first of the warriors from the village arrived, blowing heavily, at the top of the stairs.

The dragon's roars had become unbearable; the wind could barely be heard over their hellish shrieks. They had to be over the village by now, Angarr was sure of it. The crash of thunder merged with the screams to form a satanic cacophony that shook the Viking warriors to their bones. The lightning never struck the ground, arching instead between the clouds, revealing a maelstrom of wheeling, dark silhouettes. Sheer, unbridled terror could be seen on the face of every fleeing man. Nothing would survive out here, this was not of their world.

Together, with a sinister synchronisation and not a moment's hesitation, they began their attack dives, falling towards earth with horrifying screams.

The flimsy wooden housing was as nothing to the demon's assault. With practiced ease, the armada of beasts set about tearing Berk apart. Home after home burst into flames as a squadron of Nightmares carved a path through the village with their jets of flame. Clouds of green gas snaked between the buildings, blowing them apart with a single stray spark. Teams of dragons tore down every tower in sight, before igniting the rubble.

Smoke blackened the sky even more, and the hail did nothing to dampen the fires, which had now taken a firm hold on every building in sight. The last few men were scrambling up the steps and through the entrance behind him. All the workers had retreated inside. On the platform Angarr was left alone, staring out as Berk was ripped to splinters by hundreds of dragons.

He felt everything and nothing, even as the soul piercing scream of the Night Fury fell upon him. He closed his eyes, and lifted his arms up to the sky. He felt every hailstone as they stung his face, each individual hair, tugged painfully by the wind, the smell of burning flesh. The damp cold of his sodden jerkin, and the blazing heat of the thousand fires below him, Angarr's senses were alive, and yet the only emotion he had was that of acceptance, like this was some kind of twisted penance. He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do.

The scream reached its peak and bolt of searing energy shot towards him, as fast as the lightning itself. It flew just over his shoulder, singing the side of his head, before impacting on the wall behind him.

Those who were still climbing the steps were obliterated, disappearing in a blue flash that blew chunks of rock across the burning village. The shockwave could be felt from deep within the mountain and the intense light burned the eyes of anyone foolish enough to be looking. All the air was forced out of his lungs as the force hit him like an axe blow. As he was thrown, face first to the floor, Angarr returned to his senses. With the sudden blast, his self-preservation returned, overwhelming him with a wave of panic.

Half blinded and with bleeding ears he staggered back to the entrance of the cave, diving through seconds before the makeshift entrance groaned and collapsed under the strain. A falling pile of rocks and rubble blocked the opening, and shut out the chaos as their island was annihilated. Nobody cared that they had just been trapped inside. They were safe from the dragons.

He lay there in the darkness, dazed. The sounds of the apocalypse were muffed by the solid, rock wall of the caves. Whispers and moans drifted up from the depths of the tunnels as the people of Berk waited in fear. He could faintly hear the sound of somebody banging on the outside. It was quickly cut off by a strangled cry, but he could not tell whether it was human or not.

He waited, eyes screwed up for several minutes until the screams died away. The dragons stopped calling too, and only the hail kept up its merciless assault. An eerie silence gripped them, and all Angarr could hear was his own steady breathing, and that of his men nearby. He staggered to his feet by himself, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He called out into the caves, and somebody was quick to respond, closer and louder than he expected

"They can't get in chief. I think we'll be safe in here."

"Thank the Gods we got everybody inside before they came. How are the people doing?"

"They're fine. Scared but alive. It looks like they'll be safe inside the mountain, so long as they -"

He was cut off by a loud boom that shook the walls around them. Small stones and fell down from the low roof, and rock dust coated their wet hair. As he was, Angarr, had to fight to keep his balance. The blow echoed down the tunnels, and once again he could hear crying from the deep as people began to panic. A faint glow from deeper in the cave had found its way to the entrance, and Angarr could just make out the face of the man he was talking to.

"What in Hel's name was that?"

"Was it the storm or the Dragons?" cried another.

"Both" Angarr whispered. "That is the sound of Lightning and Death itself."

There was a round of gasps and mutters, and more than one moan of despair.

"They want to get inside, and if they do, there's nowhere left to run. Arm yourselves, and stand with me. We won't go down without a fight."

A handful of men picked themselves up from the floor, and gathered near the entrance. Others slunk back down the tunnel, looking for more weapons or volunteers. Angarr still had his ornate dagger, only recently cleaned from Spitelout's blood. It slid smoothly out of its small leather sheath, which he had fortuitously found lying around the abandoned blacksmith. Sharp as it was, he doubted whether it would truly be useful against a scale-armoured dragon. Still, it was better than nothing, and he stood by his people, waiting for the inevitable.

The floor shook again as another blow hammered against the walls, but the men stood firm. They knew what was at risk. Everybody in the entire village had sought refuge in the caves, and if they fell, everyone would be butchered. They prepared themselves to fight and die, not out of bravery, but of desperation.

A third explosive strike, strongest of all, caused the wall and roof above them to crack, showering them in more dust and small, sharp stones. The warriors stared round, wide eyed in fear; they didn't know where the dragons would break in, and it was a very real possibility that they would get buried alive.

The hammering stopped, and there was a sickening silence as they waited. Angarr's hand gripped the dagger so hard that his knuckles began to feel numb. He would not let it slip from his hand, no matter how much hail, sweat or blood had soaked it. There they stood, in almost complete darkness, waiting to see if their rocky stronghold would stand up to the most powerful attack that Berk had ever witnessed, or if they had wasted their last few days digging their own graves.

The hastily built rubble entrance suddenly exploded with a bright blue flash, sending shards and splinters ripping through the men, hurling them backwards with blinded sight and ringing ears. For the weary and injured warriors, it was almost all they could take. A sudden rush of freezing air blew through the tunnel, extinguishing the lights far behind them, leaving them gasping in the darkness. Two blood red eyes forced their way through the pitiful barricade, with a savage accompanying growl that could be felt as much as it was heard.

Forcing its way into the cave was the largest monstrous nightmare Angarr had ever seen. For a second, he stood stunned, gawping at the enormous creature. Its scales might once have carried an angry scarlet sheen, but the colour had dulled with age. Despite this, it had no problems displaying its power. Claws as long as swords clicked on the stone floor as it slid into the opening. Its breath filled the cave with the stench of rotting flesh. It looked around the chamber, swinging its great head with a guttural, menacing roar. It was clearly taunting them, the way it flaunted its weapons one last time before it killed them all. It fixed him with its eyes, its bottomless blood red eyes, and for the second time that night, Angarr saw his death.

It opened its mouth, a deep orange glow filled the chamber, illuminating the terrified and incapacitated Vikings sprawled across the floor. Its liquid fire would flow right down to the depths of the tunnel, and incinerate everything it touched. It was going to burn everyone alive, and the best part was, the dragons wouldn't even need to go come inside.

He looked around at his fallen comrades, some of whom were struggling to get up, and then back to the beast. He stared into its eyes once again, and he could have sworn that it was laughing.

There was a deep rumble, and a crack, as the roof gave way, pushed beyond its limit by the force of the attack. It collapsed, and several tonnes of solid rock crashed down onto the Nightmare and a few poor souls beside it, as the entrance fell in on itself. All that remained was its head, protruding at an unnatural angle from the pile of boulders, its neck snapped. Instead of a river of fire, it coughed up a pool of blood, and its head lay limp against the floor.

Angarr stared at the Nightmare as the light in its eyes faded away. As it died, they were still f]locked onto him. There was no malice, no hate. All that he could see in that great creature's scarlet eyes was sadness, a great sense of loss as it accepted its fate. Angarr watched as the spark died, before he fell backwards, exhausted, and embraced the darkness.

* * *

"GOOD MORNING, my bearded brethren!" Birds took flight as a booming voice echoed out of the hall and across the town.

"Oh, I wondered when he was going to wake up."

"Typical mainlanders. One drink and they'll be sleeping till next week…"

Stoick and Gobber were passing through the palisade gate and back onto the grassy hill upon which the hall was built. They each carried brand new shields and weapons, and an armful of expensive and exotic looking furs, all paid for by the Jarl's hospitality, of course. The shields in Marauder's Bay were made with stronger, more flexible wood than anything on Berk. The weapons too looked impressive as they flashed and caught the autumn sun. However the Berk blacksmith maintained that good materials did not make up for good handiwork, which he claimed to have more of in his stump than there was in the entire town.

Stoick had brought himself a new sword - a strange, slightly curved blade that was thin and flexible, but sharp as a Nightmare's teeth - instead of a hammer. In his opinion, hammers were too unwieldy when fighting against other Vikings, and he had gifted his favourite one to his brother a few months earlier. Gobber had no such inhibitions, and was busily trying to attach a chain link to his hook hand. Suspended on the other end of the chain was a brutal looking spiked mace that swung heavily with the motion of walking, as they strolled up the hill.

"It's quite a place, Marauders' Bay. To think Stoick, it's been more than ten years since we were last here! Everything is bigger and better, apart from the drink. That ale still tastes like burned yak hair." He chuckled, and then sighed. "Questing is a young man's game, I know… but ye have to admit this whole outing has been quite exciting."

Stoick gave the barest hint of a smile before it quickly dropped into a frown. "Aye, it is quite the trip, but I can't rest knowing that the people of Berk are leaderless, and so close to winter too. At least that means the dragon attacks are dying down."

"Aye, that's the one thing we have in common with the devils. Winter is the best time for a holiday, although last year they did attack the tree and burn all the presents. It's just not festive if you ask me."

A shadow flicked overhead, blocking the sun for the briefest of moments. High above the earth, a dark shape sat, wings stretched fully to catch the thermals.

"You know Gobber, I think we might have more in common with them than we think."

"Aye, it's quite a sight isn't it. You've got to remember though Stoick. If what you say it true, _that_ is no dragon, not really"

"Yet still she flies, and my son too. Gods, I've been a fool. I've neglected my son to the point where he can relate with a dragon more than me. He told me how it happened, you know? He actually shot down and then set a Night Fury free. Astrid turning into a dragon might be the best thing that ever happened to him – he'd be dead otherwise."

"I've been meaning to ask you Stoick, how did that happen? I mean it's impossible for Vikings to just 'become' Night Furies. Hel, do we even know that it really is Astrid? Hiccup's been known for his crazy stories in the past –"

"My son is telling the truth. That dragon did not attack me, and it agreed to let Hiccup ride it. Hatched devils don't give lifts. Besides, I've seen her write, with her claws in the ground 'I AM ASTRID' clear as day."  
"Aye, but that still doesn't explain how all this happened."

"Another Night Fury, so I'm told. If that's true, then we've been underestimating them. When we get back to Berk we need to double our defences."

"One problem at a time Stoick. We still need to take it back. Speaking of which…"

"Hello there, noble guests of the great Hooligan clan!"

Jarl Raynir bounced down the slope towards his visitors, meeting them more than halfway as his retinue struggling to keep up with his enthusiasm. The crown was gone again, replaced with an old battered helmet that looked painfully out of place on his bloated physique.

"So then my lads, my pals, my good buddies ma' boys! How was your first night with the Marauders? Good I hope, perhaps even 'splendid'. I hope my people looked after you well. Helgi! Clamm! Come and take our guest's luggage, they can barely stand up under the weight of all that booty!"

"Ahh, good evening Raynir. Nice to see you so energetic at this time of day. I can tell you that we have had great time. The drink was fantastic, just what we needed, but we feel that it's time to talk business."

The two islanders casually dropped their equipment into the waiting arms of the servants below them. Clamm was just able to stagger off under the weight, but Helgi was immediately crushed and pinned to the ground. Raynir put his hand around Stoick's broad shoulder as Helgi was dragged off by several assistants.

"Yes, Business… It's about time we talked man to man. I understand that you are willing to give me something that I very much desire."

"That's right. Even if it seems too good to be true, we have a deal my old friend. Just don't forget, I'll need something in return, before I can give you any dragons."

Raynir frowned in slight annoyance. He was used to trading with other Jarls and minor kings, far to the South. He had a feeling that Stoick was not one to manipulate, or to mess around with. The people of Berk were much better at fighting than bargaining. The sooner he could secure the trade for himself the better.

"Very well. I'll lend you my ships. We Marauders are known for our seafaring skills. My fathers have been sailing these waters for generations, plundering cities, capturing treasure, pushing the boundaries of the known world to the very limits of human-"

"That's all well and good, but when we reach the island. I want to know your men can fight."

"I'd like to keep my men alive, thank ye very much Stoick. Some of them are quite useful, you know?" They were interrupted by Clamm, chasing after one of the shields that was rolling down the hill. Stoick rolled his eyes.

"It shouldn't take much fighting. Once I get ashore and kill that…" he looked around to make sure no Night Furies were nearby, "Kill that traitorous bastard Agnarr, the people of Berk will flock to us again."

"And I will get my dragons?"

Gobber, who had been walking alongside them, sensed that his expertise was needed and barged into the conversation.

"Aye, that's right. The arena is full of the beasties at this time of year. You can have 'em all, as well as a new shipment every other season, in case the others die, which they do from time to time. It's a terrible business really. It turns out that beating the creatures to a pulp for weeks on end to train the wee warriors is actually bad for the dragon's health."

"Thank you Gobber, we get the message. So Raynir, you give me Berk and I'll give you your dragons. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes, we have a deal" Raynir grinned with such boyish excitement that it seemed for a second as if he had never grown up.

The two men grasped each other's arms, and stared at each other, before bashing their helmets together and laughing.

"I still don't know why you want those demons. They're only good for burning and slaughter."

"What about your son? He seems to make quite good use of them. I would never have believed you could train a dragon if it wasn't for that little display yesterday."

"Aye, Hiccup. He's… He's what we might call 'special'".

"I can see that. Quite clearly as a matter of fact. So when are we leaving?"

"Tomorrow, if the weather is good. I want to be back on Berk as soon as I can. Every second I'm not there I can sense my people are in danger."

"Well that means there's still time for a celebration." He turned and called out to his servants. "Set the tables and light the stoves, who's ready for round two!"

Gobber quickly interjected.

"Perhaps we shouldn't have another feast so soon Raynir. I wouldn't want to finish of all of your famous ale. I was hoping that we could leave tomorrow morning, not as the sun disappears, if you understand me?"

As he spoke, the sun began to slip below the two jagged peaks of The Twins to the West, guarding the people of the Bay for hundreds of years against the turmoil of the sea. Astrid's dark, fleeting silhouette had drifted out over the water, watching the night roll in. Fires were lit around the town, countless pricks of light appearing as families lit their stoves fires for the evening. They would melt seamlessly into the starry night sky when the last of the red sunlight had disappeared below the horizon. The faint sound of thunder could be heard on the wind, far out across the ocean, inviting them to follow, or perhaps challenging them to fight.

Raynir turned to his guards, and issued his orders.

"Ready the ships! We leave at dawn."

* * *

 **The reasons for my absence.**

 **1\. I was in South America, not ideal dragon territory.**

 **2\. More shooting (just targets don't worry).**

 **3\. Serious levels of work. As is life.**

 **4\. Preparation for interviews. I'm just so popular, everyone wants to interview me. Its a tragic burden really.**

 **5\. Playing a piano. No excuses really, I just think its fun.**

 **6\. Marvin the computer going into an early retirement. His friends will miss him.**

 **7\. Konrad Adenauer**

 **8\. Presentations, so many presentations. My life has become PowerPoint, its ridiculous.**

 **9\. My cat died (It was 10 years ago and I'm totally over it but hey, its still an excuse!)**

 **10\. Being a Lazy tyke.**

 **I hope that explains it for you, but I am sorry for not at least giving you something. To answer a few questions: No, I have not seen the programme 'Vikings', but I might give it a watch if it is as good as you say it is. My gender? You can guess for yourselves, the same with how old I am.**

 **There seems to be a lot of transformation fics out there these days. Who knows, maybe I've inspired someone... Well that's it for this chapter. Have a wonderful time wherever and whatever you are.**

 **If you are a rebel scum, review and favourite. If you are fighting to crush the rebellion, then review and favourite as well, its all the same to me. If you don't get this reference... then I'm speechless.**


	17. Chapter 17

HTTYD is the property of the Government of Burundi, I do not own any intellectual property.

 **Why are we here?**

 **What** **does it all mean?**

 **What are chicken** **nuggets** **really made of?**

 **Why haven't I updated in so long?**

 **These questions cannot be answered by mere mortals, so just read on and be happy.**

* * *

 **Chapter 17**

"What are your orders sir?"

"What can we do against such hateful beasts, against such ruthless power?"

"What do you mean? Chief, what are we going to do now?"

"For generations we've been able to fight them off, beat them back, and protect our homes. But now…"

"Where do we go, what do we do? The houses are all gone and with winter coming-"

"Leave me alone!"

The people of Berk emerged from their shelter onto a scene of utter ruin. Daylight revealed the full extent of the dragon's destruction. Below them, not a single building remained standing, the entire village had been flattened in a single night.

The Hooligans were no strangers to rebuilding, but this was something different. It would take months to undo the desolation that had been wrought. The earlier dragon raids were about as tragic as a broken fingernail, compared to this apocalypse of destruction.

Smoke still rose from piles of ash and embers, and black marks had been scorched onto the very rock of the island. A thick layer of soot lay over everything, as if the village had been built on a volcano. Black water from the night's downpour gathered in deep puddles, and ran in dirty streams towards the shore. Some gagged as the smell of burned flesh drifted through the ruined streets.

The caves had been reopened, and a steady stream of red eyes and stony faces picked their way down the side of the mountain. In places, the staircase had been obliterated, leaving only a ragged hole in the rock face. Planks and upturned wooden carts straddled the gaps, and groaned under the weight of frightened yaks and sheep as they were lead back down to the scorched fields.

Even without the smoke, the sun would not have been visible. Berk was bathed in the pale grey of a thick overcast, threatening drizzle at every moment. The bursts of wind brought stinging cold, but even that was not enough to clear the choking smell.

Vara gently laid her hand on her husband's shoulder, gesturing to his subordinates to leave them. He continued to stare unblinkingly at the remains of his village.

"Angarr, you must give your men some orders, we can't just stand here."

"The boys. Are my sons-"

"Your heirs are fine Angarr. They were never in any danger, I was looking after them, remember? He tried to smile.

"What orders can I give, love? There is nothing they can do, _nothing_!" He buried his head in his hands and groaned painfully. "I can't do it. I shouldn't have… I never"

She slapped him hard on the cheek. The chief's face turned red as the villagers stopped to see. With an icy glare, he sent them back on their way, staring at their feet. Nobody wanted to cross the murderous new leader of Berk.

"What has happened to you Angarr Hofferson? What happened to the man I knew, the Viking who stepped up to the challenge when there was nobody fit to lead, who saved these people's lives?"

"I've saved nobody. I've doomed them all Vara. Look around for Odin's sake!

After his warning, few of the soot covered villagers turned to see the private drama. Most were picking their way through the rubble, stunned beyond words.

"Angarr, _you_ told them to shelter in the caves. What do think would have happened, if all these people were caught out in the open? Now I don't know what the Hel those dragons were thinking, burning everything, but now is not the time for weakness."

"And where has strength got me? A charred shell of a village and an island full of corpses and refugees-" She slapped him again, harder this time.

"I am not waiting here for another attack to drive us into the sea. I'm sorry, but you don't have a choice. Tell us what to do next!" Angarr sat down heavily on a rock, his sigh long and loud. Vara knelt down next to him and spoke softly into his ear.

"What would Astrid do?"

He tensed up angrily at the mention of her name, but stayed where he was.

"What would she do in your place? Would she give up like her father?"

Angarr spoke through gritted teeth. "She would be fearless, like her uncle. She would think of something, she always did."

"Yes, exactly!"

"She would never wait around until the next dragon attack drove her into the sea… Hang on, into the sea…" He stood up slowly, the first glimmers on an idea flashing through his head. "Into the sea! Vara, you're a genius!" He hugged her and ran off towards the harbour, shouting orders as he went. _That's the man I married_ , thought Vara.

* * *

The Marauder fleet would have made for a terrifying sight, had it appeared out of the mist one foggy evening to raid the distant shores of Albion, or set about pillaging some ancient Roman fort. However, to those used to the chaotic flames of a dragon attack, the cluster of wooden ships felt a lot more fragile. Stoick and Gobber did not share the rest of the sailors' enthusiasm as a strong wind filled the sails and carried their little armada north and west.

Stoick stood at the helm, breathing the salt air as he closed his weary eyes. For all his fears, there was something inherently liberating about the sea, something in his blood that had drawn him to danger and adventure since he was a boy. Only Raynir's bellowing voice could be heard above the crash of the waves.

"Faster men! Faster! How can we be going so slowly when my destiny awaits?"

The Jarl had his own vessel, one full ship length ahead of the others, but it was not a barrier to his voice. The Hooligan ship was the only one brave enough keep pace, the rest of the fleet lagging conspicuously behind the billowing black and red sail, giving the Jarl a healthy lead. His ship was enormous compared to the traditional Viking longships, its lower deck towering twice as high as that of the others. At the stern it rose even higher out of the water, a floating castle complete with ramparts, and a comically large wheel.

By the looks of things, the Jarl had actually brought his throne with him, or at least a wooden copy. It was hammered into place behind the wheel, and gave the would-be admiral the perfect place from which to shout at his men.

 _A few good archers, and it would also be a perfect place to shoot from_ , Stoick wondered.

The galley was slower than the other ships, but wider and stronger with room for perhaps three time the men. Doubtless the Jarl had captured it on some distant raid down south, there were still arrowheads sticking out of the ramparts, and the occasional torn plank that hinted at a violent past. No Viking tribe ever created such a ship.

It looked more at home carrying barrels of ale then it did warriors, which was just as well. There were various pieces of cargo on board, many hidden from view with lengths of old sail. Towards the centre of the ship, things took a turn for the bizarre. The deck was littered with cages of all shapes and sizes. Open, closed, bent, rusted, wood, iron and some which were broken altogether. It took only one look at the thunderous face of the Jarl to know that he would be coming back with dragons, trained or otherwise.

Stoick turned away from the flagship, and retook his position at the helm of the Raynir's donated longship.

"Am I the only one whose got a bad feeling about this whole wee plan?"

"No Gobber" Stoick grumbled "You're not, but we don't have a better one, so just get used to it."

"Aye, but I was just wondering. What exactly do we tell the Jarl if there are no dragons left, and how will we win back the love and support of our rebellious brethren?"

Stoick frowned as his list of worries grew even longer. "Just one thing at a time Gobber, I'm sure Hiccup will come up with another one of his plans, and save the day, as usual."

Hiccup and Astrid were nothing but a black dot, hanging far above the fleet. From that height, they appeared to glow in the light of the setting sun, as the rest of the world darkened. The older Viking could only imagine how pitiful the ships looked from up there, or how vulnerable.

"I have a plan…. to save the day... oh Odin"

Clamm leaned over the side of the ship to throw up his guts for the sixth time that day. The Jarl had provided the Hooligans with extra crew to help 'steady the ship in case of rough seas', although Stoick had his own theory, considering who they had been given.

"Honestly, Clamm, I don't know what is wrong with you. Motion sickness only occurs when the perceived or experienced motion does not align with that which is interpreted by the eyes. On waters as calm as these it's a wonder that –"

The ship hit a gentle wave and lurched upwards a millimetre, Helgi was immediately sick into the bucket he had been cradling between his legs for the past hour.

Gobber rolled his eyes and turned back to his friend, who chose not to comment on their crew's unsurprising lack of competence.

"I won't lie to you Gobber, I'm worried. Whatever happens when we reach Berk, I don't know if I can… If I can bring myself to…"

"Relax Stoick, it's like you said, Hiccup will think of something. He'll just do some fancy flying and the rest will be history. We'll give lizardhead over there his shipment of dragons, and everything will go back to normal."

A sleek black shadow flicked over the deck.

"Well, almost normal."

"I'm not hurting any of my people. They will not suffer from any more from my mistakes."

Stoick caught Raynir's eye as the Jarl shouted yet another gleeful order. He was practically frothing at the mouth, his damp and salted hair hung untamed around his neck as his velvet cloak tugged in the wind. There was something dangerous in that man, Stoick thought, as he glanced back at the twisted cages. Something unhinged.

Hiccup and Astrid soared beneath the clouds, shadowing the fleet from above. They had climbed high in the morning, almost out of sight of their Viking friends, but Astrid's keen eye never lost sight of Stoick's glowing beacon of a beard. They hung in the silence of anticipation, but neither was willing to break it for a good few hours.

"Astrid?"

She was caught off guard, jolting awake from near sleep.

"What do think you'll do when we reach Berk?"

Astrid chirped with a slight inflection.

" **What do you mean?"**

"I mean, do you think they'll let us live there? Do you think they'll ever understand? What about… you know, Angarr…"

Astrid closed her eyes. She knew full well what the real purpose of the Marauder's fleet was; to take back Berk from the rebels, from her father. Even if Stoick regained control, both their families would be damned. Plagued by quick glances and rumours, the lives of the dragon-magic rebels and the dragon-loving traitors would be torn apart.

But then again, if they didn't return, Stoick, Gobber and Hiccup would all be homeless, exiled from Berk, and all because of her. How long before Stoick grew impatient, tired of the dragon who had cost him his life? How long before he remembered the screams of his wife, and looked at Astrid with hatred?

Either way she lost.

For the millionth time she cried out to the gods from inside her head, the only place her human voice still existed.

She hadn't even considered the other dragons yet, how they would react, how _she_ would react during the raids. There was still the other Night Fury to worry about. Things could never go back to normal, and she might never change back

"I guess we'll just have to impress the village, like we did the Marauders. They'll come round eventually. After all, the Hooligan's aren't known for their grudges or stubbornness."

She barked a laugh. **"Or their intelligence."**

She was fairly sure that Hiccup understood, given the way he smiled, rolling his eyes.

Astrid straightened up and focused on flying. It was the best part about being a dragon, despite her misery. It was indescribable, the effortless power, the thrilling speeds, the sense of absolute, unrestrained freedom.

She could feel the air flowing around her scales. It was cool, but she was never truly cold, fuelled by an internal flame that she could not describe or understand, only feel.

They flew on in silence for a little longer, Astrid letting go of her worries and doubts before they overwhelmed her. A feeling of great calm washed over her, and she felt one with the sky. Her thought's dulled, retreating back to a near sleep as she flew on instinct.

She gently descended, eying the sea for the distinctive glimmer as shoals of fish circled just beneath the surface.

 ** _"_** ** _Yes, fish, perfect for hunting."_**

Astrid blinked in shock, losing her concentration and dipping slightly. Hiccup jolted at the sudden drop, but relaxed as he saw they were not in danger, mentally blaming the wind.

 **"** ** _Dive, dive and kill."_**

There it was again, a voice in her head. It wasn't a voice exactly, not as any Viking knew. It spoke in feelings, urges; simple desires that arose from within.

 ** _"_** ** _Food."_**

The impulse rolled through her scaled frame as her eyes turned back towards the water. She fought to keep from diving there and then. Claws clenched, the Viking girl focused on clear coherent thoughts. She muttered to herself, too quiet for Hiccup's human ears.

 **"** **Remember who you are, Astrid Hofferson. You may look like a dragon, but you feel like a Viking, you act like a Viking, you think like-"**

 ** _"_** ** _It matters not what you think…"_**

Astrid froze, tense from nose to tail as the voice in her head became that of the other Night Fury.

"Astrid?"

For a second she lost control.

They screamed towards the water, dragon eyes slit with a predator's focus. The wind tore violently at Hiccup as they smashed all their previous speed records. It was all Hiccup could do to shout, desperate to be heard amidst the howling of air.

"ASTRID! What are you doing?!"

 **"** **Food!"**

Silence gripped the fleet as the crews gawped in awe, unused to the dangers of a dragon attack. They listened as the Night Fury cry grew louder, almost unbearable as she blasted the water, showering the Marauders with water and open-mouthed amazement.

The dragon pulled up in between the ships, rocking them with the force of displaced air. A black blur had cleared the last ship and was already turning as the Vikings shouted and stomped their applause.

Hiccup let Astrid lead the way as she skimmed across the water, filling her mouth with fish. All the while Hiccup made the necessary adjustments to stay airborne, leaning and matching her every move.

Feeling full and thoroughly pleased with herself, Astrid powered back up to altitude, leaving the rest of the fish men leaning overboard with buckets. As quickly as it had started, the hunt was over.

Hiccup leant back against the cold scales, arms aching with the effort of holding on. He looked up at the sky and frowned, deep in thought. They flew that way for a while, dragon and rider silhouetted against the clouds.

From below, the jolly echoes of another Viking sea shanty drifted upwards, but it could not break Hiccup's concentration. The way Astrid was fishing, with such enthusiasm, and ability. He watched as she licked spots of blood away from her lips. Impressive as the display was, it made Hiccup feel uncomfortable.

"Astrid?"

She chirped in response, lifting up her head and tearing her gaze way from the water.

"That, uh… display earlier. Were you feeling… were you controlling?"

The dragon tilted its head with confusion, eyes narrowing slightly.

"I mean, you've never done that before, with the fish and all. I just feel that maybe…"

Hiccup stared into Astrid's eyes as they swivelled back to meet his. He was trying desperately to imagine her thoughts, to interpret her body language. It was all much harder when they gliding high enough to clip the clouds. At least, that's what he told himself.

"It's just that, seeing you do that with the fire, and then swooping down like that, without a word. It was like watching, well, a wild dragon. Hunting,"

There was a moment of silence. She twitched

Astrid barked and threw herself to one side, rolling over and into a dive.

"Astrid! What are you doing, why? … Astrid Stop, STOP!"

 **"** ** _Human, Viking."_** The voice practically spat the word. She felt a great anxiety, deep within her, rising in her blood until it every inch of her tense frame was screaming it.

 ** _"_** ** _DANGER!_** "

Somehow, an enemy had climbed on her back, and she would not allow it.

She acted with all the calm and poise of the predator she was, slipping into a dive with practised ease. The voice was right, he needed to be gone.

That word, 'wild'. It bit into her, and released a flood of supressed anger. She was consumed, and acted helplessly on impulse.

 **"** **Wild? I'll show you wild you barbaric little…"**

So what if she'd been 'hunting'. She had finally been enjoying herself, coming to terms with her condition, but also her strength. She had enjoyed the power, screaming down from above on her helpless victims, stunning them with fire and eating them whole, laughing as they slid down her throat. It was justified. Did not Vikings the world over hunt for flesh just as she did?

 **"** **I am Unstoppable."** She gritted her teeth as she dived. Hiccup frantically worked the pedal, clinging to some sense of control, but in a full dive with her wings and tail fully retracted, there was nothing to stop them dropping.

 **"** **I am a Dragon."** He had no right, NO Right to criticize her, and the voice agreed. She, who had been given the body of her worst enemy. She, who would be killed on sight by her own family. She, who was the more powerful than any living man.

Hiccup was screaming, "Astrid, please, NO, stop STOP!"

She laughed as the boy's feet flew from the fragile stirrups. Viking's couldn't fly, but she could.

The water was approaching rapidly. At this speed, it would act as a smooth rock against the boy's soft flesh. Men gathered at the sides of their ships, laughing and shouting, making bets on how many fish she would stun.

The boy had stopped screaming, perhaps out of fear. Maybe he had passed out. Astrid didn't care. He would die, just like the others. They dropped together, as men's smiles turned to shouts of concern. She could already taste her freedom, and breathed a sigh of gentle relief.

Panic. Astrid flared her wings and screeched as her eyes and mouth shot open.

Her wings almost tore from their sockets as muscle and tendons were stretched to breaking point. Hiccup was almost thrown from her back as they rapidly decelerated.

She flapped desperately, spinning towards the dark water as her single tailfin failed her. Sick dread rose in her stomach, mixed with the adrenaline, she felt dizzy with shock and fear. She strained her neck against the force of spin, trying to look back over her shoulder. She roared in relief as she glimpsed Hiccup, clinging onto her back still.

She spluttered and flapped, praying for Hiccup to hold on as they tumbled together at shocking speed.

 **"** **I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I am so sorry."**

"Almost… Almost…"

The world had become a blur of sky, sea and scale as they twisted in the air, helpless. She had stopped breathing, utterly unprepared for the impact with the icy water.

"HA!"

Hiccup shouted in triumph as he slipped his outstretched boot into a stirrup, shortly followed by the other.

He was back in control.

They swept up low, brushing against the mast of Raynir's flagship. It rocked violently

Her eyes were wide as she skimmed the water, irregular beats clipping the waves. Astrid's heart was bursting in her chest, horrified at what she had almost done. Her head darted back and forth, her body was outrunning her mind. There were a thousand things to focus on, a thousand contradictory instincts to fly, fight and hide.

Blind in panic and sick with horror, she desperately searched for somewhere to land, even if it was little more than a crash.

 **"** **Ahh… Ahhh.. Hiccup!"**

Her thoughts turned to her silent rider. She twisted her eyes backwards, relieved to see the boy conscious and attached. Fists clenched and coated with sweat and spray, he worked the pedals as Astrid panicked, keeping them just high enough to avoid a certain and watery grave.

She twisted around in the air, burning as much speed as she could, a tight circle that put yet more strain on the pair of them. She rounded on Stoick's ship, fast approaching the sharp wooden bow. She twisted her wings, manipulating the air beneath them as she shot upwards, turning their speed directly into altitude.

They slowed, and for a second they hung in the air motionless, level with the tip of the mast. Her wings quickly shot out again, long flaps to keep them from plummeting into the brittle wooden planks below.

She came to a hovering standstill over ship as men applauded all around, blissfully unaware of the drama that had just taken place. Raynir gave them a standing ovation, ordering more drinks to be brought up from the hold.

Astrid's wings gave way, and they dropped hard on the deck. Hiccup jumped and rolled away, but the dragon landed solidly on her shoulder. Yelping and pain and anguish, she curled up into a tight ball, racked with muffled sobs.

Stoick leapt forward, grabbing his son and patting him down as if to confirm that he was really there. There were no obvious injuries, but no one knew what such terrifying speeds and manoeuvres would do to the human body.

He looked round to see Gobber hobble over to Astrid as her cries rattled the deck. He caught the eye of Raynir, gripping the railings with white knuckles, staring back with a look of anger and confusion. Stoick tore his eyes away, his son was more important.

The boy was white faced and breathing hard, but alive. He tried to stand, but his legs were shaking too hard. He rolled over onto his knees and retched. Stoick picked him up and cradled him in his arms. The boy managed a weak smile.

"Hi Dad, still here" he sputtered before collapsing back into a coughing fit.

"Hiccup, thank the Gods you're alright." Relief washed over the big Viking, but his features suddenly hardened. Stoick had seen Hiccup fly a few times, but even the marauders knew something wasn't right.

"Hiccup, what happened?"

The boy was shocked for the most part after his near death experience, and words came with difficulty.

"I…" He turned to look at the black wretch, huddled to itself on the bare planks. Gobber lay his hand on Astrid's scaly head, trying to sooth the shuddering creature.

"I just don't know anymore…"

* * *

The scrape of sawblades and the clashing of hammers rang out across the water. Shattered masts and leaking hulls were pieced back together. Sails, stained black by soot and ash were unfurled. Confused orders were shouted over the noise of the repairs as the entire population of Berk prepared to set sail.

With every building levelled, the island had become uninhabitable. Even without the constant threat of dragon attack, there was barely enough food to last the winter, and no firewood. There was only one option; they would retreat to the south, find a new home, rebuild, wait until the dragons grew careless and then strike back.

'Retreat'. It stung Angarr to even think of the word, let alone put it into practice. He knew the spirits of his ancestors would understand. There was no other way. A brave man could fight and die on a single day, but a clever man could live to fight another, bide his time and eventually see his enemies' homeland in ash. He offered a silent prayer to Loki, that his gamble might succeed.

Angarr looked grimly on as his people filled the ships with all the provisions they could carry. Grey, lifeless faces met his eyes as struggling villagers stumbled under the weight of barrels and weapons. Having worked ceaselessly to scratch tunnels out of the side of the mountain, and a sleepless night fending off the worst attack in living memory, everyone was exhausted. Only stoic, Viking determination kept their legs from collapsing under them.

"Sir, we have six ships ready to sail, complete with all the-"

"SIX! That's not enough, not for everyone."

"We reckon on three more longships afloat by this time tomorrow, but if we wait a few more days then-"

"We don't _have_ a few more days, idiot! The dragons will be back soon enough and I do NOT want to be caught in the harbour when that happens. Do you understand me?"

"Yes…. Yes sir" the man sighed with fatigue and looked down at his feet.

"I want three more ships ready to go in the next hour, we will be gone by nightfall."

For all the devastation that the dragons had wrought, the harbour had been relatively untouched. It was too far away from the rest of the village, and only the huts and storerooms had been burned. Amidst the rain and spray of the ocean, the ships had mercifully been spared the flames, but the distinctive blast of a Night Fury left many of the ships with holes in the hull, and even more lying on the bottom of the ocean.

The villagers knew the seriousness of the situation, and had worked themselves into a frenzy of activity, as much as their exhaustion would allow. Barrels of supplies were loaded onto the decks, tied down or covered under spare fabric everywhere they could. There was not an inch of spare space aboard any of the ships.

Along the shore, livestock were hastily butchered and skinned, the meat either preserved with salt or cooked immediately. The smell of cooking meat went someway to mask the choking stench of smoke and ash, and a good meal gave the workers enough energy to carry on long after their fingers and minds were numb with the effort.

Men and women waded into the sea, splashing their faces even as the salt stung their eyes. The water turned dark as the soot and blood washed away.

Sparks flew as swords were sharpened. Burned axe hafts were replaced and shields were nailed back together. The blacksmith had been badly damaged, but Gobber had built it strong, and mostly fireproof. There was plenty of weapons to go around, and nobody was taking any chances.

Angarr stood alone atop the cliff, watching the waves to the rhythmic sound of Vikings at work. He let a thin smile creep across his lips.

 _We are a busy people, practical and precise._ He unsheathed his dagger, feeling the fine, delicate carvings under his rough skin. He wondered, not for the first time, who had built it. Which ancient heroes had used this same steel to defeat their enemies, plunging it into a dragon's heart as they were locked in mortal embrace? The same strength and skill that had forged this dagger had built ships that could sail around the world. It could fell forests and crush-mountains, tame seas! He gripped it tighter.

It was the strength and skill of Vikings that would defeat the dragon menace, once and for all. He closed his eyes, recalling the words of his old father as he told his children the tales of old.

 _'_ _The Hooligan tribe will never perish, not while good men still carry good steel.'_ He watched as small catapults, ballistae and bola-throwers were loaded onto the warships. Each ship could hurl a barrage of sharp rocks and spears that could carve through dragons for more than a mile, if they got the angle right.

"Where will you take them?"

"South Vara, always south. We'll be done with the bitter winters and those bastard dragons, at least for a while."

"They won't forget this, you know that? Not with our stubbornness. The Hooligan tribe will never forget their homeland…"

"Or the chief who ran." Angarr's shoulders slumped. He knew that fleeing was only a temporary measure, but the thought of his name going down as a coward still ate at his conscious.

"Or the mad Chief who tried to befriend a dragon. We know why you've chosen to leave, they know that you had no choice. Angarr please."

"I've seen the way they look at me, Vara. The older families, Stoick's allies, Spitelout's son. Sometime I think… Sometimes I fell that I won't survive the winter, not if my people cut my throat and throw me overboard in the night."

"You still have friends Angarr Hofferson, sail south, find the Marauders, they-"

"Are too arrogant to help a Hooligan in need. The pretentious barbarians are too busy raiding the Franks, or Saxons, sitting on a pile of gold or growing fat on rich meats. I'd sooner see my people drowned then look to that obsessed Raynir and his-"

"Listen to yourself, we haven't left the island and you're already making enemies. Whatever happens, you need to be strong now, for your people, your family, for me. You have saved this tribe and you will again. You're a good man Angarr, and we need you now more than ever."

"Aye, you're right."

"We will return, and you will get your revenge, our revenge, I know it." Vara drew her husband in to an embrace.

"Go" she whispered.

The chief lifted his head, nodding. Chest out, he marched back down the ramparts and into the harbour, making his voice heard above all the others as the fleet prepared to sail.

In the end, eight ships left Berk, just after mid-day. They had enough provisions to get them safely to the mainland, although some of the more damaged vessels sat dangerously low in the water, straining under the weight.

They sailed together in silence as stone-faced Vikings stared back at the lingering clouds of ash and smoke. Only the gentle lapping of the waves could be heard as they abandoned their ancestral home for good. Far behind them, dark clouds threatened a storm as distant thunder carried on the wind.

The makeshift fleet struggled to stay together, stringing out as they circled round the island. The fastest was little more than an armed regatta vessel, crewed by younger, eager Vikings. With the help of a narrow profile and a bank of oars, she was surging forward.

Ahead of them, the crumbling ruin of what had once been Raven point marked the most Eastern point of the island. Jutting far out from the rest of Berk, it was a formidable natural obstacle, even more so now it had collapsed. Past that, the open ocean invited a clear run to the south.

Angarr's ship sat immediately behind smaller boat. His flagship was the largest, the most heavily armed, but also one of the fastest in Berk. Built for dragon hunting, Angarr's undamaged longship was the pride of the shambolic fleet.

He grunted in annoyance as the young Vikings rounded the point, coming dangerously close and risking falling rocks to get there faster. With a shout, they disappeared round the corner.

"Slow up!"

At his command, oars were lowered into the water and held there, slowing the warship with a lurch. With a single command, the drums were beaten, and the left bank of oars pushed back in reverse. The ship groaned along its length as was pulled to the side and clear of the rocks. Angarr gave them a wide berth, he didn't want to take any chances.

The drums stopped, and the oars were pulled back in, the sound of the drums could still be heard as it echoed off distant rocks and across the water.

Angarr listened closely for the sound to die away, returning them to silence.

It didn't.

Suddenly, the younger ship shot back into view, rowing hard back the way it had come. Shouts of confusion flew between the ships, as Angarr pulled hard on the rudder to avoid them.

The drums were getting louder.

The Chief of Berk watched with sick horror as they rounded the point. Arrayed before them was an armada of ships, far outnumbering the forces of Berk. At the centre sailed the largest ship he had ever seen. It rose higher than a house in the water, and its sail alone could have covered the deck of three of his ships.

Along the line flew the colours of the Marauders, holding steady in a line on the horizon. Despite the distance, he could clearly make out the bright hair of the former chief of Berk, pressing ahead of the enormous flagship, leading the charge. Angarr was apoplectic with rage, turning a shade of deep red.

"That BASTARD! First the dragons, and now… this. The Marauders too? I'll have his _head!"_

Panic rippled through the men as they realised what faced them. The chances of victory would be low at the best of times, but with women and children aboard the rearmost ships, the exhausted crew were on the verge of collapse.

"Retreat!"

"Turn around, pull down the sails."

"Look at the size of that ship…"

"Disengage!"  
"It's not worth it."

Angarr looked around in horror as his men's resolve began to waver. Oarsmen sat hesitantly, clueless as to which direction to row, some struggled to pull in the sails whilst others fought to keep it open. Their ships had lost all sense of purpose, and sat idly around Raven's Point in a confused mass.

A captain next to him pulled a horn to his lips, no doubt to signal the retreat. Angarr quickly grabbed it, crushing the horn as the order to retreat died away in the captain's throat. Angarr roared his orders.

"Battle formations, full line we'll match this pathetic challenge head-on."

"But sir, their ships, the numbers…"

"DO IT!"

The man slunk away to give the order to the drummer. Angarr's outburst had silenced the confusion, and his men looked to him in desperation.

"Men, I'm not much of a speaker, but hear this. These are _your_ people on these ships, _your families_. If these Marauders win, they'll have your island and your women, and all thanks to that disgrace of a chief. That _traitor."_ Angarr spat the word out with disgust, not caring to even mention his enemy's name.

"Make no mistake, we either kill these men, or we get killed by the dragons, and I'd take one of you Hooligans over ten of those worthless mainlanders any day!" He was greeted by a cheer and the beating of hammers on shields.

"Oh, and one more thing. Whoever brings me that ginger head will get to keep his ship. Onwards, warriors of Berk. Let's show these scum what we dragon-fighters are made of!"

The cheering continued as the sky began to darken and the storm snapped at their heels. For the second time that day, the drums boomed across the water as the ships found their place in the line. Some sense of order returned to the Hooligan fleet as the first drops of rain began to fall. They had the wind on their side, and it filled their sails as the last ships of Berk surged forward.

There was death in Angarr's eyes as he took position at the head of his forces.

"With water and blood, salt and steel, this ends today! Stoick, this is the day you die."

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 **So that's chapter 17. I intend to update much more often now, so that's good. Thanks for all your support so far, I'll try to be more efficient.**

 **In the meantime; like, follow review, have a picnic, and enjoy yourselves. (Warning: Failure to follow or review will result in immediate incarceration and/or Trump building a wall around you. It's your choice.)**


	18. Chapter 18

_The HTTYD films is owned by DreamWorks, but they are controlled by the illuminati. Wake up Sheeple!_

 **Things are getting interesting. Thanks for all the continued support, read on!**

* * *

 **Chapter 18**

"ROW, men of Berk! No rests, no retreat, no mercy!"

Stacks upon stacks of armoured Vikings lined the edge of each ship, teams of burly men and women heaved at mighty oars to the beat of the war drum. A strong wind hurled rain and stinging seawater into their eyes as they pulled. It filled the sails to the breaking point as they skimmed across the rolling waves.

The new chief stared, wild eyed at the mass of ships before them, arrayed in a clumsy but dense battle formation. Sick anxiety rose in his stomach, but he angrily ignored it. He was going out of his way looking as hardened and stoic as he could in front of his men.

Pressing on the edge of his subconscious were a myriad of fears and doubts, flashing through his head at lightning speed. His family, his honour, his men. The very real possibility that he might be leading the entire tribe to its doom. His daughter, who he had yet to fully grieve over. The treasonous accusations of Stoick and his son. The mysterious Night Fury. The oncoming night and abysmal weather. At no point did he even consider his own life.

'No', he thought to himself. He couldn't afford to start thinking now, that route lead only to miserable insanity. Like Vara had said, this was time for action. He crushed his fears and doubts beneath a wave of fresh hatred for Stoick and his son, and once again vowed to end their lives before the first light of morning.

He calmed his beating heart, screwed up his eyes and forced himself to focus on strategy while he still had the time. Berk's commander was no admiral, but there were universal laws of combat that applied to fighting against ships just as much as they did against dragons. Speed, strength, discipline; these were just as important as numbers, and the men of Berk had all three. Still, he was at a distinct disadvantage, and he would need a good plan and the favour of the Gods to defeat the armada before them.

The short man had been fighting larger enemies his entire life, and there was one rule he had never forgotten. Size doesn't matter if you don't have a head. He smiled inwardly, almost laughing at the simplicity of his objective. They would charge the enemy flagship, the enormous galley, and cut down the foolish Jarl Raynir as soon as possible. That single blow could cause enough panic amidst the Marauders to send them swimming back to Sweden, and all without losing a ship.

He gripped the rudder hard, adjusting his course towards his target, signalling the rest of his fleet to follow. As much as he wanted revenge against the Haddock's, Stoick was only one man, and he was no longer a chief. Attacking him first made no sense; with so few men, acting on impulse would lose them everything. He had to keep things straightforward. They would cut their way onto the galley, and remove the enemy's leader, and their most powerful vessel at the same time. Besides, a ship of that size would be a fitting reward for the Hofferson household, come the victory.

With their target chosen, the ships of Berk formed up together, as close as it was possible to get without colliding. They would rely on speed, weight and brute force, smashing through to the Jarl before the enemy had a chance to react. The strongest, fastest, and least damaged ships surged to the front. They would act as an iron fist, whilst the women and children followed reluctantly behind, desperately trying to avoid taking on water. Angarr's flagship formed the tip of the spear as they closed on the Marauders. It was armed with a brutal metal prow that could splinter hulls and shatter decks with a single ram. Even the strongest vessel would be mortally wounded by such a blow.

Angarr watched as the smaller Marauder longships fought against the wind, struggling to protect their leader's ship as the Jarl reacted to his move. He was running out of time.

"Faster, FASTER you worthless yaks"

Seizing the nearest rower by the scruff, Angarr hauled him to his feet and threw him to the deck, before taking the oar himself. He roared out orders for double time as he personally joined the rowing crew. With each stroke, his flagship surged ahead of the others.

As the drums took up a faster pace, he began war chant. A series of steady hoots, slowly getting faster. Men echoed him across the water, on the deck of every ship. There were no words as such. It was enough for the men to shout in time together. The men roared in anticipation, their booming voices almost drowning out the drums.

The chant was not complicated, but it was designed to be simple and memorable enough for even the most harmonically challenged Viking. To their enemies it was little more than an animal growl, building up to a roar. In a word, terrifying. The beating rhythm gathered pace, as Angarr rowed even harder. Those without oars were banging on their shields, a cacophony of drums, voices and the clang of metal crashing out across the water.

Lightning streaked across the darkening sky as the storm fully enveloped the warband. The immediate crash of thunder went almost unnoticed among the chanting. Angarr looked back over his burning shoulder, surprised at how close they were to the enemy.

He grunted in annoyance. A pair of longships blocked their path, strewn out in front of the galley for protection, and bristling with warriors. There was no time to change direction. There would be a hard fight after all.

He threw down his oar and rose slowly. Donning a thick iron helmet, he slung a patterned wooden shield over his left arm. Bright red paint, with an intricate picture of a Night Fury leaping out towards the attacker. Despite the growing darkness, the shield would make him easy to identify for his men on the battlefield. It had been Stoick's after all. He continued chanting as he made his way to the sharpened steel prow.

He hid away his short sword and dagger in tight sheaths about his waist. He held out his hand, and one of his men handed him a crude, heavy, blunt mace. There was hardly a better weapon for smashing through a shield wall.

Following his example, many on the rowing benches leapt up, grabbing shields or stringing bows. Long grappling hooks and wicked barbed spears were passed around. The ballistae and stone throwers were loaded, the sinew pulled tight, ready to unleash their sharpened projectiles at the pull of a lever.

He stood at the bow as the ship flew towards the Marauders at terrifying speed. Men stacked up behind him and weapons were readied. Final prayers and promises were whispered to the Gods, and equipment was checked. Angarr looked back at his men, nodding at their determined faces. If there was one thing that Vikings were good at, it was hiding their fear, even though most were terrified to their core. Angarr's father had taught him that only truly wild men fought without fear. The rest had to rely on bravery instead. Even so, knuckles turned white as the men gripped their weapons hard.

Ahead of them the great galley loomed, its masts stretching high into the sky, swaying violently as the ship tossed back and forth. Angarr watched as archers scrambled to their positions aboard the great wooden castle, trying to keep their footing. They drew their bows as one, straining with the effort, waiting on the orders of their Jarl. He could see Raynir too, several paces behind his men. He was only slightly fatter than Angarr remembered, but just as loud as he shouted orders to his men. From this distance, he could see the whites of their terrified eyes. His men began their taunting

"DEATH to the traitors!"

"Let's send them to Valhalla!"

" _Glory to Berk!"_

The chanting reached a furious pitch. They had driven themselves into a kind of mad insanity, smashing on their shields and helmets and frothing at the mouth. They readied themselves for an orgy of violence, preparing to kill without hesitation. They would not be disappointed. The warriors of Berk all screamed the last words together as the arrows flew and the ships collided.

" _Victory!"_

* * *

"What is this Stoick? You told me they had no idea we were coming!" Raynir had once again turned a deep shade of crimson, but for once it wasn't from drinking. Leaning over the side of his galley, he hurled abuse at the deposed chief of Berk, despite the crashing of the ocean.

Stoick had steered his ship close enough to hear, but Gobber was straining at the rudder. Every angry wave threatened to throw the ships together.

"I don't understand. They don't… They Can't!"

"Surprise, Stoick! You said we'd take them by SURPRISE! You said they would be overrun! A nice SAFE LANDING!"

Stoick didn't answer, instead turning to take his place at the prow. He stared across the water, watching as the final ship rounded Raven's Point. He had fretted over his return to Berk for days, but he could never have predicted a move so bold, and without Angarr even knowing. It just didn't make sense. His eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed. Slowly, his amazement turned to suspicion.

"Gobber…"

"Aye Stoick, I think I know what you're about to say."

"How many ships did we have in the harbour at last count?"

"I'd say about fifteen, but only 5 of those were warships…"

"Aye, and tell me Gobber. Have you ever known the people of Berk to leave harbour in a damaged ship?"

"No, and I've never heard of fishing ships being used in battle, or sitting that low in the water."

"We need to stop Raynir, something's going on here, and I won't see my people suffer because of it."

The Jarl was busy organising his force, his orders creating a frenzy of activity as sails was stowed and weapons prepared. He was busy chastising a boy caught halfway up the rigging when Stoick interrupted him, shouting across the watery chasm.

"Raynir, something's wrong, we need to-"

"You're damn right something's _wrong_! This was never part of the deal. You better not have set me up to this you traitorous… AH, somebody clear these cages off the deck before someone runs into them. This is a disaster!"

"Listen, Raynir-"

"It's _Jarl_ Raynir to you, I'm in charge here. Now you listen to me Stoick, if that even _is_ you real name. I am not fighting your bloody fleet, at _night_ , in the middle of a damned _storm_ so close to that craggy island. We'll be smashed onto the rocks within the hour, and I for one am not-"

As if on cue, the ship struck a particularly large wave, throwing a jet of salt water right into Raynir's face as he leant over the side. He fell back, roaring in blind fury, cursing everyone and everything.

"They can't be here for a fight Gobber, they had no idea we were coming."

"Perhaps they were coming after you Stoick. You're still the rightful chief of Berk, and whoever's taken charge will want you gone."

"No, they don't know where I went. Besides, Angarr would never risk so many ships just to find one man."

"Angarr?"

"It has to be. He led the opposition in the great hall, and he's far better at politics than Spitelout ever was. I'll wager he's seized power for himself, and locked up my thick-skulled brother in a cell somewhere."

Stoick shouted back at the Jarl, who had barely recovered.

"Turn the fleet around, we should not engage until we understand what's going on. They can't be here for a fight, it makes no sense."

"Makes no sense?" The Jarl coughed back. "Of course it makes no sense, but that's exactly what they want. See for yourself you stubborn fool."

"Oh, for the love of…" The Jarl was right. The Berk fleet had moved into battle formation, surging forward at attack speed, following what could only have been their flagship. Stoick listened carefully, and could hear the sound of the drums, carried on the wind. They showed no signs of slowing.

"There's no time to turn the ships around Stoick. Looks like we'll be getting that battle after all. I swear Stoick, if you've betrayed me; if this is some clever trap, I will tear off your head and swing it round by your beard. If you're honourable, and true to your word, get that dragon of yours up and fighting. We could use the firepower. Now fall back in line, I've got a battle to win."

Stoick steered clear of the Raynir's galley as the Jarl got back to organising his troops, mainly through a string of furious orders and obscene insults. Stoick looked back to his son and the Night Fury. Hiccup was trying desperately to comfort the shivering ball of scales. He was making little progress.

Helgi had been sat at his bucket for the past few hours, seemingly oblivious to worsening weather and growing crisis. He suddenly stood up, sniffing the air and tilting his head. Stoick raised an eyebrow.

"Hang on a minute, do you smell burning?"

"Burning?" his companion answered. "Like that time we tried cooking? When the oil leaked into the stove and the entire ship nearly-"

"No Clamm, it's more like… a bonfire… or a burning house… a burning…"

"Village." Stoick finished his sentence. Even from such a great distance, the smell of destruction was unmistakable to a man who had known it all his life. He could see it billowing above Berk on the other side of the island, over the village. Long trails of black smoke snaked their way upwards, mingling with the dark and dirty sky.

Stoick knew exactly what was happening, and he knew he had to stop it.

* * *

"Astrid, Astrid please. You have to tell me what's wrong. I don't know how to help you otherwise."

Astrid had moved little since she had collapsed on the deck earlier in the day. Now, with Berk finally coming in to view, he redoubled his efforts. The dragon, however, was being as stubborn as his father. Refusing food or water, all Hiccup could do was lay his hand on Astrid's head, and try to coax a response.

Her mind was in turmoil. Flashes of her past; her human life, her transformation, her dreams, her pain. All of it rolled together and thrown from one side of her head to the other, until she could barely distinguish between nightmare and reality. She kept hearing the voice of the male Night Fury, as if he was whispering in her ear, laughing at her pain, crushing her will to live.

But then there was Hiccup.

Throughout her ordeal he had stayed with her, reassuring her with that familiar, soothing voice. He was an anchor, pulling her back to the real world even as her own thoughts threatened to drag her away and drown her in despair. She was so grateful, and yet so guilty. She had tried to kill him, and yet here he was. Hiccup was giving her his all, and what was she giving in return? Nothing but misery. It must have been exhausting.

She wished she could explain the voice in her head, the primal urges, the fight to control a body that was not her own. She yearned to speak to him, to offload the emotions that were consuming her with every passing hour.

"It was him, wasn't it?"

She cracked open an eye, unfurling only slightly.

"You lost control, like on the night you were transformed. That other Night Fury, he must have done something to you."

She sighed in relief, of course Hiccup knew, he always knew. For a moment she had forgotten what a wonderful, intelligent boy he was. It almost made not having a voice bearable.

"He got inside your head and took over, which means…"

He twisted around suddenly, staring wildly into the clouds.

"He's here!"

Astrid chuckled weakly and shook her head as distant thunder rumbled. She tapped the side of her head.

"Oh… I see, it was just in your head. Like a feeling. No, a voice?"

She nodded, slumping down again in self-pity. She let out a low moan and stared at the swaying deck beneath her.

"There is still hope, Astrid Hofferson. We'll find a way to fix you, and we can all go back home."

Home.

She could smell burning.

She sat up and peered at the island with her superior eyes. There was no mistaking the ships of Berk as they rounded what was left of Raven's point. She narrowed her eyelids as the low sun caused many of their weapons to glint painfully in her eye.

Weapons.

Creeping dread infected her body. As the men around her began to panic, she looked closer still, praying that her worst fears would not be realised. Then she saw him, and there was nothing Hiccup could do.

She retreated back under her wings as the shouting began. Stoick's booming voice competed with Raynir's to be heard above the growing howl of wind. The thunder and drums caused the wooden planks beneath her to vibrate. The clank of metal and bashing of shields pierced her ears as she shrank even smaller. She started rocking, wishing that she was somewhere, anywhere else.

She could barely feel Hiccup's hand, and his words were carried away by the storm. Thick rain began to fall, the ship began to rock, and she shut herself away from the outside world. She wouldn't get up, she couldn't face her father. It would be far better if he simply killed her without her ever knowing. The noises grew louder, until her ears were assaulted by a cacophony. Individual voices blurred together.

"Astrid please!"  
"Raynir, listen to me…"

"The ships, move the ships…"

"No prisoners!"

"Watch out!"

 _"_ _Victory!"_

She heard a sickening crunch, and a loud bang as the first ships collided, shards of wood whistling over her head. The roar of men and the clashing of metal overpowered everything. Still, she could not bring herself to look as she heard the screams of the dead and the dying. She wished she could join them, she wished for the mercy of the gods that her ordeal would finally-

"ASTRID!"

Suddenly, Hiccup's voice was the only thing that mattered. His voice was hoarse from shouting. For how long she could only guess. He looked scared, but mostly angry. It unsettled her, Hiccup was never angry.

"Astrid, your people are dying, your _family_ is in danger. I know it's hard but I don't care! You are the only one who can stop this. You can't keep hiding Astrid. You need to get over yourself before you get us all killed. You have to fight. NOW!"

She gradually revealed her head, looking with horror at the chaos around her.

"I'm am NOT going to stand here and watch my people die for nothing. This can't go on Astrid. They need us, we need you, right now!"

She stood up. Her teeth slid out and her pupils slit. Muscles tensed across her body as claws subconsciously dug into the deck. Hiccup was right, she needed to get over herself, and finally do something good with the body she had been given. She ignored the pain in her ears, and silenced the voices in her head with a viscous snarl. She had been wallowing in self-pity for far too long. Now was the time for action.

"That's right. Now let's do this."

Hiccup leapt onto her back as she shot off into the sky. Her claws tore the wood and the entire ship bucked with the force. They gained some altitude as Astrid fought against the storm winds. Droplets of rain felt like arrows as they hammered both dragon and rider. Swooping round in a fast loop, they took stock of the battle.

The Berk ships had slammed straight into the centre of Raynir's formation, aiming for the Galley. The steel prow of the flagship had torn a gaping hole in one of the Jarl's ships. Even as it slipped beneath the waves, warriors hacked at each other on what was left of the deck. Across both fleets, rope and grappling hooks tied ships together in a great, heaving platform. From there, the fighting almost resembled a bizarre land battle, with the added threat of drowning and nowhere to hide.

Formations of men with heavy shields confronted each other in brutal shoving matches. The side with strength and discipline would press forward until the other side broke, and the killing would begin again in earnest. Catapults flung rocks which punched holes through the thin wooden hulls, and more than a few men were impaled at once with a single lucky shot from a ballista. The decks were turning dark and slippery with blood. Screams were silenced as the unfortunate ones were swallowed by the churning ocean. Trapped between the ships and weighed down by armour, those who went under were seldom seen again.

It was utter chaos.

The fighting was thickest on the great galley, where the islanders had forced their way up the steep sides and onto the lower deck. A bitter struggle played out, with Raynir's archers peppering the enemy from the high wooden castle at the rear of the vessel.

She glimpsed her father's face, ignoring the pain, fear and relief that washed over her. Her people were dying, and she needed to act.

She swooped down over the galley, flapping steadily to maintain her height. Most of the warriors hadn't noticed her, so thick was the fighting. She breathed in deeply, inhaling as much air as she could hold, and aimed herself directly at her father.

She screamed the loudest roar she had ever heard. She held the note for what felt like eternity as Hiccup covered his ears. The echo lasted even longer, booming across the water and bouncing off the rocky island.

There was silence.

The sounds of battle simply vanished, with only the peaceful patter of rain and the swell of the swollen waves to be heard. Stoick, Raynir and Angarr all gawped with open mouthed amazement. The Marauders had little experience with dragons, but the Hooligans had never seen an angry Night Fury before, let alone one with a rider.

Astrid grinned, feeling the power flowing through her veins. She could end them all, with ease. She looked down at her father. She could kill him without batting an eyelid, and the thought filled her with sick pleasure.

It felt like the silence could have gone on forever, but it was not to be. She batted an ear, flinching slightly. A thin wail cut through the black clouds, rising in pitch and volume. The Jarl's men looked around in panic as the warriors of Berk cowered beneath their shields. There was no mistaking that sound.

"Night Fury!"

A flash of lightning lit up the sky as black streak tore past Hiccup's shoulder, almost knocking him off with a rush of air. A blinding blue flame cut through the clouds and smashed into the Jarl's galley.

Marauders and Hooligans alike were thrown into the air as the base of the main mast vaporised in a flash of light. It groaned and snapped as it fell to one side, crashing into the deck of a nearby longship.

"Dragon attack!"

Hundreds of dragons burst out of the black clouds and hurled fire at the ships below. Nadders, Gronckles and Zipplebacks threw themselves at the Vikings, landing on the decks and lashing out at whatever came into range.

Men who had been at each other's throats minutes earlier turned to face the common threat together. Arrows, rocks and spears were directed upwards, forcing the attackers through a hail of projectiles. Many dragons plunged straight into the water, riddled with arrows or stunned by a rock.

On the ships, the warriors of Berk and Marauder's Bay locked their shields together to defend against the onslaught. Their petty feud was quickly forgotten as they fought for survival against the hellish beasts. The wounded from both sides were dragged behind the shield wall, narrowly avoiding the scratching claws of Terrors as they scuttled around on the floor.

Some ships were divided between man and dragon, but the Vikings fought desperately to reclaim them. Amidst the seething ocean, there was nowhere else to go, and the sturdy men excelled at close quarters combat. Any dragon that found itself trapped on a tight deck was quickly slaughtered. Hammers and axes crushed bones and sliced through scales when swung with enough force, and the men could easily cover their comrades with row upon row of shields.

Astrid had been sent reeling by the Night Fury attack. Hiccup had barely held on, and now they were caught in a storm of horror and death. Hovering above the chaos, it was all they could do was gasp at the scale of destruction as this new battle raged on around them. Astrid's eyes shot open wide as she realised something. She could hear the screams of the dragons as clearly as the humans. It was deeply unnerving. The other dragons didn't speak with words, not like the Night Fury did. They spoke in warnings and feelings, short, simple blasts of information. It was as fascinating as it was horrifying.

 _"_ ** _Danger"_**

 _ **"**_ _ **Help"**_

 _ **"**_ _ **Fear"**_

 _ **"**_ _ **Kill"**_

 _ **"**_ _ **Pain**_ **"**

Almost too late, she spotted a blur out of the corner of her eye. She twisted violently in the air as a spear sailed by, embedding itself in the gut of some poor Nadder. She heard it cry out for friends that never came, until it smacked into the water, screaming noiselessly as it sank.

She looked away, and her eyes were drawn to one battle in particular. Astrid watched captivated and filled with horror as her father stood alone on Berk's flagship, single-handedly beating back an enormous Nightmare. He kicked a full bucket hard at the monster's head, dousing its mouth in water. Instead of a gout of liquid flame, Angarr was met with a weak cough of smoke as he swung his hammer. The dragon reacted quickly, ducking low and smashing the hammer out of his hand and into the sea. Its jaw snapped forward, but the seasoned warrior was already drawing his sword. Astrid shut her eyes as her father plunged his blade up through the Nightmare's neck and jaw.

"Astrid, we've got to do something!"

Hiccup was right. The battle was swinging against humanity. Had they all been warriors of Berk, the Vikings might have had a chance, but most were Marauders who had never even seen a dragon until a few days earlier. Compared to trained dragon fighters, they were hardly a challenge to the flying beasts. The screams and flames were too much for many of them to handle, and they quickly fled back to their ships, cutting them loose of the grappling hooks that had held fleet together. Manning the oars, they retreated into the growing night as fast as they could row.

Even after the dragons had been beaten back off the ships, they kept up the attack. They circled round, burning everything in sight with jets of fire. The wood had been soaked by the spray and the rain, and clouds of steam drifted across the water, blocking the aim of the catapults and archers. In some places, small fires had already started, and a large number of warriors had to throw down their weapons and pick up buckets in order to keep the blazes under control.

On one of the outermost longships, the sail was engulfed in fire, and scraps of burning fabric fell onto the decks, spreading it further. The crew fought desperately to save their stricken vessel, but the mast was already lit up like a candle. As the flames leapt higher, they jumped into the water, preferring to risk drowning then burn to death. Astrid flinched as one man stumbled around the deck, wrapped in fire. He toppled over the side and into the water as the last of his clothes and hair burned off. The ocean was illuminated for miles around, even as the ship gently slipped beneath the waves.

Astrid knew that she had to do something. It wasn't enough to save her people once in a single day, she would have to do it again. She glanced around, whispered a prayer to whichever Gods were still listening, and allowed her inner dragon do the talking. She roared as loudly as she could, and in dragon's tongue.

" **STOP! Stop fighting, go back to where you came from. Leave these people alone."**

As quickly as it had begun, the dragon attack stopped. The survivors pulled out of the battle, and flew up to her level. She flew up higher, out of the range of Viking weapons, and they dutifully followed. She suddenly found herself at the centre of a vast flock of dragons, with all eyes on her and the human on her back.

 **"** **Didn't you hear what I said? I said GO!"**

The nearest dragons flinched as she shouted. They all looked around at each other, panicked and unsure what to do. Astrid narrowed her eyes, trying to decipher their behaviour. Some of the dragons shouted back, but they sounded more confused and frightened then angry.

 _ **"**_ _ **Where?"**_

 _ **"**_ _ **How?"  
"Fight!"**_

 _ **"**_ _ **Fear"**_

 _ **"**_ _ **Pain!"**_

She realised what was happening. They had understood the order to 'Stop' but they couldn't understand the rest. It looked like Night Furies were far more intelligent than the rest of their kin, and the natural leaders, given how the flock had followed her without question. It was a surreal experience, like being able to talk to sheep. She sighed inwardly, and made her orders as simple as possible.

 **"** **FOLLOW."**

To her surprise, it worked. As she turned back towards the island, the entire host followed her, falling into formation behind each other to reduce drag. The wounded dragons drifted to the back, with their comrades supporting them as much as they could. They followed without question, and with complete trust in their Night Fury leader.

Hiccup worked the pedals, keeping Astrid in line, but he could hardly contain his amazement. He had never even been this close to so many dragons, let alone flown with them. A pair of Zippleback heads came alongside him and snapped playfully, but a viscous bark from Astrid sent them sulking to the back of the flock. It had all happened so quickly, but it looked like Astrid's plan had actually worked. Despite the rest of the dragons eyeing him with curiosity, Hiccup relaxed slightly, and leant back in the saddle. The nearest dragons jumped slightly as he let out a cry of relief and success. It was almost too easy.

"Astrid. I think you've done it. Astrid… You've saved Berk!"

* * *

 **There we have it, chapter 18. Let me know what you think with a cheeky review. Also, check out the revised chapter 1. It now comes with a prologue of sorts. Anyway, have a sterling day.**


	19. Chapter 19

_The HTTYD franchise is not owned by me. Instead it is an intellectual property currently owned by DreamWorks Animation SKG. Originally, Pacific Data Images was the majority shareholder with 60% when the company was founded in 1995, although over the last 2 decades ownership changed hands a number of times, with the HTTYD film IP as part of the sale._

 _On April 28, 2016, NBCUniversal officially announced its intent to acquire DreamWorks Animation for $3.8 billion, valuing the company at $41 per-share. Jeffrey Katzenberg is to remain involved in the company as head of DreamWorks New Media, but was to cede control of the studio to Illumination Entertainment's CEO Chris Meledandri, who would oversee both. The sale was approved by board members, but is subject to regulatory approval._

 _The purchase was closed on August 22, 2016; the company now operates as a division of the Universal Filmed Entertainment Group._

 _Therefore, do not sue me._

 **Sorry about that. Anyway, things are coming to a close now, so I hope you enjoy. Presenting: Chapter 19 of 'Fall from Grace'**

* * *

The men gave a half-hearted cheer as the dragon flock retreated back into the clouds. It was hardly a victory, but in their situation, surviving was as good as winning. There was no chance of the battle continuing, not after the attack. There was barely enough light, the Hooligans and Marauders were mixed up across the fleet, and everyone was exhausted. They pushed dragon carcasses into the sea and tended to the wounded or dying as best they could. With the sounds of battle finally gone, the thin cries of children from the refugee ships filled the air.

Neither side knew or cared why the dragons had retreated, they only thanked the Gods that they had made it through. Only Stoick and Gobber had seen Astrid's little trick, and now the big redhead was sick with worry that his son might have been carried off to the Dragon's nest.

They had stayed away from the battle as much as they could, neither wanted to see any more of their people killed. They had rolled up the sail, and sat fairly still in the water. It was just the two of them left on their small ship. Helgi and Clamm had been knocked off somehow during the battle, and were floating around in the ocean. Clamm was lying on a long piece of driftwood, and Helgi was treading water, holding his friend's hand to keep himself from slipping under.

"Help, I can't swim!"

"Here, take my hand."

"Listen Clamm, you're going to get out of this, you've got to move on…"

"Don't worry Helgi, I'll never let go… uuhhhaaa"

The bigger man shouted in surprise as two burly Vikings hauled them both up and onto the deck of a passing longship.

They watched as the Dragons flew off high into the sunset, taking the last of the autumn twilight with them. The storm still lingered overhead, and a blanket of thick, black clouds was blowing in slowly from over the island, threatening to cover the sky at any moment. Behind them, a bright moon was on the rise, providing just enough light to see for the moment. The burning ship has finally sunk beneath the swell.

"I daresay Stoick. I think your wee lad might have actually saved us…"

"Aye Gobber, but don't forget about Astrid."

"I swear that girl has been far more use to us as a devil then she ever was as a girl. To think, if we'd been able to tame dragons like those southerners tamed horses. Well…"

"We've seen some crazy things, impossible things, old friend, but remember to visit the real world from time to time."

"Aye, well. It was just a thought. Speaking of the impossible, you need to win your tribe back, _without_ any more bloodshed."

"At least we won't have to wait any longer…"

Angarr was back in command of Berk's flagship. It had been damaged during the fighting, but a few holes and scorch marks were not enough to keep it from sailing. He caught sight of Stoick's enormous frame, and yanked the rudder, bringing his ship to bear. Across the icy water the two Chiefs of Berk faced each other while their shattered tribe looked on. Hearing was not a problem; they were both plenty loud enough. Angarr spoke first, shaking with rage.

"YOU. You _dare_ to bring these Marauders, these outlanders, to fight against your own people. How low will you sink, Stoick the Vast? Is there not a scrap of honour left in you? First you side with the Dragons, and now _this_?"

"So you have taken command then Angarr? I expected as much. I never trusted you, you were always too clever for your own good, always the self-righteous hero of the people. Look where you've brought them! I'll not be lectured on honour by a man who abandons his home and forces his entire village to flee into the night like frightened dogs!"

"I saved them, Stoick. I saved them from the annihilation that _you_ brought the moment you sided with that beast."

"That 'beast' is your daughter Angarr!"

"I'll hear none of it Stoick. NONE of it! My wife saw my daughter carried away by an animal. We found her axe, the blood. You are insane. _Insane,_ Stoick. Look around! How many had to die today because of your cruelty, because of your madness? I'll send your head to the bottom of the ocean, and I'll be doing the world a favour!"

"Open your eyes! Do you see what just happened? That dragon saved us, not you. All you have ever done is kill, Angarr. You see a threat and you attack, even if you don't understand why you are fighting. I know, I was the same. Now I don't pretend to understand how, or why, or what happened that night, but I am telling you. That Night Fury is ASTRID! I swear it by my life and honour."

"That's good to hear Stoick, I will gladly take your life, and we've established that your honour means nothing. You're not fooling anyone with this fleet of Marauders. This battle is simply a way to take back the title you lost."

"The title you stole!"

"You are no longer fit to lead, traitor. I wonder, how much did you offer Raynir to slaughter your own people? I almost pity you, look how far you have fallen."

"STOICK!"

Stoick opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by another booming voice, calling out his name across the water. Raynir's galley was badly damaged, its main mast lay on the bottom of the ocean with much of its original crew. Powered only by the sweat of the oarsmen, it laboured across the battlefield to meet them, sweeping aside debris with its massive, thick hull. The dark shape of the galley would not have been hard to see, if not for the hundreds of newly lit oil lamps that lined the deck, rattling as they moved. Cutting across behind Stoick's ship, the oars halted close enough for the Jarl to join in the shouting match.

"You backstabbing, honourless, _traitor_ of a man. I trusted you with my fleet, and with the lives of my men. Their blood is on your hands Stoick, as are the tears of the fresh widows and orphans that you made today."

"I have killed nobody!" Stoick responded, seething and horrified in equal measure. "You two warmongering-"

"You lured us into a trap! I let my trusting nature get the better of me, old friend. You enchant us all with a boy flying a dragon, and then order the beasts to attack at our weakest moment. Well guess what Stoick? We beat them off, and now you have nothing left to hide behind. I will get the dragons you promised me, one way or another…"

"What!" Angarr had to shout so that both Stoick and the Jarl could hear him. The Jarl turned to face him, looking down from the high deck of the great galley. At first he didn't recognise the new Chief of Berk. The Jarl, peered down at the helmeted man whom he had once known, a generation and a world away.

"Angarr Hofferson?"

"Stoick promised you what? Dragons? He is insane Jarl Raynir, Berk has no dragons. We have nothing left thanks to this traitor. We're fighting for our lives to get away from the devils!"

Raynir stopped, looking at the devastation around him. He noticed a Berk ship sliding by in the moonlight, picking bodies out of the water. It was filled with women and children, and heavily laden with food, water and firewood. Cold and pale faces looked out of thick hoods into the black water, praying that their husbands would not be among the dead. Sickening realisation swept over the Jarl. He turned back towards Angarr.

"Those aren't warriors… You're not here for a fight."

"Like I said Raynir, this is about survival. We were fleeing the island, after the dragons destroyed it. I have set no trap, I mean you no harm."

They held eye contact for a few seconds as a chill wind swept across the deck, growing in strength. For a moment, they considered continuing their fight, if only to avenge their dead. Angarr guessed what the Jarl was thinking.

"No Raynir, there's been too much bloodshed, my people have suffered enough."

"Aye, no more needless death." Slowly, menacingly, the Jarl turned towards the third ship. "But you won't get in my way. There's one score that I need to settle before the sun comes up…"

Angarr followed Raynir's gaze until it rested on Stoick, who looking aghast at the two chiefs before him. The man gulped and took a pace back. Stoick heart began to quicken as he realised that the last of his luck had just ran out. At Angarr's instruction, the men of Berk and Marauder's bay unsheathed their weapons for the third time that evening.

"Gobber…" Stoick whispered to his companion. "Full sails."

"Aye aye Cap-"

"NOW Gobber!"

The two men worked quickly to unravel the sail. As it fell, it blossomed and strained against the mast, filled by the night wind. A great roar went up from both Raynir and Angarr's ships as they twised around to attack. Grappling hooks were thrown at the traitors, but the small ship was pulling away with surprising speed, and the hooks sailed harmlessly into the water.

"After them! After the traitors! Avenge our dead!"

Both the pursuing ships were bigger and faster, but were also heavily damaged. Without a mast, the galley could only match their speed, but Angarr's flagship was gaining slowly. Arrows plunged into the deck, narrowly missing the two big men.

"I tell you Stoick, we Vikings resort to violence very quickly, do we not?" Gobber reached out to take the rudder handle, but an arrow reached it first and stuck, quivering, inches from his remaining hand.

"That we do, friend. Keep us sailing with the wind, back towards Berk, it's our only hope." Stoick was frantically tying down rope and rigging, squeezing as much speed as he could out of the thin sails. The two ships loomed up behind him, their crews baying for blood as they tore across the water. The crash of the water became much louder as they hit every wave at top speed, jolting the deck and threatening to capsize the little vessel.

"Oh for Odin's sake. I worship the gods, I'm true to my people, I love my son. What do I keep doing wrong to end up in these blasted situations?"

Stoick had no real plan, other than to run with the wind until they landed on the shore. Berk rose up to meet them, a dark patch on the horizon. He would sail for the south side of the island, a risk even on the clearest of days. The water was much shallower in some areas, but in others it was deeper than a barrel of Viking mead. The coast was a mixture of sharp, rocky cliffs and long sandy beaches that lead into the woods. He hoped they would land on the latter.

"They're gaining on us Stoick. All these arrows are not good for my health." Gobber had slung a shield on his back to protect him. It was already filled with shafts, but a particularly well aimed shot fell slightly short, embedding itself in his wooden leg with a dull thwack.

Lightning seemed to flash once again, but it was smothered by the black clouds above. Stoick stared upwards with intrigue from the head of the ship. It didn't sound like normal thunder, and the storm had mostly moved on. Several more flashes filled the clouds in quick succession, each one an unnaturally bright blue. Dark shapes appeared for a second and flitted around before quickly melting into the night, like fish beneath a murky sea. He looked back at the painfully close ships, and then towards Berk and an oncoming stretch of shallow water. They wouldn't outrun their enemies forever, but they didn't have to.

"Don't worry Gobber. I think we'll be alright." He lifted his head and shouted to the sky.

"Hiccup! Hiccup and Astrid!"

* * *

"Uh, so what do now?"

 **"** **We just keep flying, and let Stoick do the talking."**

"Well I guess we can wait a while, at least the rain has stopped." Say, Astrid, could you tell your friends to back off slightly, the teeth are making me uncomfortable." She twisted slightly and snapped out an order.

 **"** **Back. Mine!"**

Another overzealous Nightmare was forced back into line at the orders of the Night Fury. They followed Astrid without question, even though they were just turning wide circles around the island. All except the injured ones, who peeled off from the group and made a beeline for the horizon when they felt that they could fly no more. They all flew off to the North, the same direction the nest-hunts departed in, the same direction which Astrid spent countless hours staring as a child, waiting for her father to come home. It was fairly obvious they were retreating to the nest, or wherever the dragons came from. She too could feel an instinctive pull, a longing to follow them over the horizon. She quickly crushed those thoughts, Astrid was in control now.

She winced as an injured Gronckle passed out in mid-air, tumbling through the clouds and into the water, having misjudged its remaining energy. She couldn't see the impact, her eyes worked well in the dark but there was no seeing through the blanket of thick black clouds that had swept in below them. She could hear it well enough, and a small part of her died inside as another innocent dragon perished.

 _Wait, 'innocent'? I thought these dragons raided and killed your people, and turned you into one of their own kind._

Astrid shook her head with renewed hatred, but not for her flock. It was clear to her now, the male Night Fury was to blame. It was he who had organised the attacks against her village, these cattle would never have been able to, or would have wanted to do it themselves. It was he who had turned her into a dragon, robbed her of her humanity and turned her against her own people. She still shuddered to think what would have happened had Hiccup not shot her down.

"Uh, Astrid, another dragon has taken an interest in me…" She sighed, and tilted her head slightly for the fourth time

 **"** **Mine, Back, Fly!"**

It was her duty to protect the other dragons, to lead them away from the Night Fury, wherever he had gone. She had been blessed with the power to lead them, and she was responsible for their safety, even if they were a little reckless in their curiosity.

"Again Astrid, it's breathing down my neck." She didn't even bother to turn around.

 **"** **Back, Now!"**

A fresh wave of hatred welled up for the black devil who had changed her. She could hear his voice in her head, feel his damnable presence in her soul. She could almost smell him. More than that, she could _actually_ smell him.

"Astrid… It's not going away, and I can't see in the dark. "Wait, what kind of dragon is that?"

She twisted her head back over her shoulders, her vision was filled with a sadistic, toothy grin and intense green eyes. Literally inches away from Hiccup's head, its deep voice vibrated through her entire body.

 **"** **Well hello again beautiful."**

He slammed Hiccup to the side with a powerful blow. His claws left bloody scratches in the boy's shoulder as he was thrown from his saddle. The pack of dragons scattered, leaderless. The air was filled with scales and claws as they all panicked. Astrid plummeted after Hiccup. Amidst the dragon screams, she could hear the Night Fury's maniac laughter.

She folded her wings for the dive, rapidly catching the flailing and bleeding boy. He was screaming, but the noise was muffled as they tore through the thick clouds.

 **"** **Hiccup, hold on to me! Grab hold!"**

"Astrid! Where are you! It's too dark!"

She made what little adjustments she could, twisting just enough to get close to him. The clouds ended abruptly, replaced by the ocean. With the black depths threatening to swallow them both, Astrid knew she was out of time.

Hiccup couldn't see her, so she edged out in front of the boy, silently willing him to grab on.

 **"** **Come on, grab hold of me! Do it!"**

His palm closed around the tip of her tail, but slipped off again as he spiralled away even further. She was falling too fast now, and whilst falling to his death whilst blind Hiccup was beginning to panic, but she didn't.

"Help! Oh Gods help us!"

 **"** **The Gods won't help us. But I can!"**

She flared her wings a tiny amount, straining to keep control. She slowed just enough for Hiccup to float onto her back at terminal velocity. Bumping into her, he immediately latched on. By instinct, he felt his way into the saddle, struggling against the rush of air. The second he was in Astrid started to pull out of the dive, straining as she did so. Hiccup was forced back into his seat as they fought against both gravity and their own tremendous speed. Blood from his shoulder spread down his arm and chest as he strained to hold on.

"We do this far, FAR too often."

Hiccup never knew how close to the water they were, with the air rushing by his ears he would never have been able to hear the waves anyway. Astrid kept quiet about the fact that her legs were now dripping with salt water.

Using the speed of the dive, they shot back upwards and broke through the clouds and into a calm and starry sky. The light revealed the last of the dragons fleeing back towards their nest. Silently, a black shape flitted across the moon before turning in a wide arc to face them. They acted without hesitation.

 **"** **There he is, let's go."**

The two dragons closed the distance in complete silence, their wings naturally adapted for soundless flight. From either side of the still and empty sky they charged each other with terrifying speed. All that Astrid could hear was Hiccup's breathing, as she focused her powerful eyes on the small, dark shape that approached her.

They were rocketing towards each other. Astrid prepared to fire, the thin whine coming from deep within her matching that of the male Night Fury. She been attacked by a Night Fury before, and she had launched attacks herself, but never had she experienced both at the same time. As they closed the distance, the dual whines became piercing screams, torture on her sensitive ears. It took all of her will power to maintain her course. When they were close enough to see each other's eyes, they released.

Astrid tilted up, looking to protect her rider. The male twisted down to avoid Astrid's blast. The two fireballs crashed into each other, and a bright boom lit up the sky, briefly ruining their night vision and echoing out across the clouds. Hiccup shielded his eyes as a rush of air threatened to tear him from his saddle, but he held firm.

Astrid arced upward in a high loop, whilst the male mirrored her movements from below. She experienced weightlessness for a few seconds as she crested the loop upside down and with a glance downwards, she saw her enemy glaring back at her. They both went vertical, Astrid diving down and the male powering up to meet her. They met halfway, but the tight angle of the loops meant that neither could accurately pull off a shot. As they swept past each other, claws lashed out.

Hiccup ducked, avoiding the male's strike as Astrid swung towards his exposed underbelly. Her hand caught deep into the scales, and came away bloody. Both dragons screamed in pain. The blow had struck the male hard on his side, beneath the wing. The speed had amplified the power of her strike, but the force of the impact had torn the claws from Astrid's paw, leaving them embedded in the howling devil.

Anger took over the both of them. Animal rage coursed through their blood and they twisted back for another pass. The distance closed once again and Astrid swung with her remaining claws. They hummed through the air, striking at nothing as the distance was too great. A circling match began with each dragon turning as tightly as they could. They followed each other round in a rapidly shrinking loop, drifting closer with each orbit. Astrid's wings were tight and burning with exertion as she tried to tuck in behind the male for a shot. She buried the pain in her anger and demanded more from her wings, but he matched her every effort, stretching the angle just far enough to avoid getting blasted with a fireball.

Suddenly the male folded one wing, rolled over violently and had reversed his direction before Astrid could even react. She launched a shot that sailed harmlessly past, bursting in the clouds. She watched as he pulled the manoeuvre again with his other wing, darting back in towards the former Viking, but she was ready. She turned sharply inward to meet his attack, and his shot also failed to find its target.

They rolled and turned together through the sky at the limits of their endurance. As they crossed and scissored past each other, they bit and tore with teeth and claws. They were so close, Astrid could feel the droplets of his blood as it splashed on her face. Most blows glanced off the scaled armour, but as the fight progressed, bloody holes were ripped out of them both. Their flight became increasingly ragged and desperate – a single mistake would end in death.

Hiccup was still bleeding from the deep wounds in his shoulder, and the tight turns were forcing the blood away from his head. He ducked and dodged whenever the blows were directed at him, but he was becoming increasingly faint. Astrid could feel as his pedal movements became slower and slower, and he could no longer fully commit to the turns. They needed to pull out. Now.

"Astrid, Astrid I…"

 **"** **I know, I'm backing out now."**

At the height of a turn, she rolled away from the fight and dived silently into the clouds. Rather than falling straight through, she pulled up and into the thickest part at the last second, hiding from her attacker and avoiding the fireball that had followed her in.

The deafening silence returned, with only the sound of her own fluttering heartbeat and Hiccup's supressed groans to be heard. She was injured, but dragons were durable, and Hiccup was weak even by human standards. She turned round to nuzzle him as he strapped up his shoulder as well as he could with torn clothing. It stemmed the bleeding, for now.

 **"** **SO!"** the male's voice echoed ominously through the dark, dripping with malice. **"** **You won't face me? I'm disappointed, you should face your death with the strength and bravery expected of our kind.**

He let the words hang in the air as Astrid tensed up, praying that he would not hear or smell them.

 **"** **But I suppose you are not one of us, are you? You still cling on to your old life, your limp, pathetic body, your clothing stolen from cattle, and your silly metal claws. Tell me oh noble human, did your nest accept you? Were you welcomed back into the flock with warm embrace after you became their worst enemy?"**

Astrid flinched at the memory of Stoick's sword, slicing through her right claw. It had long since healed, but a patch of pale scars stood as a testament to the welcome that her chief had given her, to say nothing of the mob that had thrown them off the island. As bitter as it sounded inside her head, the male Night Fury was right.

 **"** **You had no future except with me, but alas, now even that is gone from you. You have nothing, you are nothing. It's ironic, the most powerful of all beings and you have to rely on** _ **humans**_ **for everything. Killing you will be mercy, I'm sure.**

"Hiccup… Hiccup and Astrid!"

The unmistakable voice of Stoick wafted through the clouds, cutting the dragon short. He let out an audible snarl at the sound of Viking voices.

 **"** **AH, it sounds like your 'people' are calling you. Well if you refuse to fight, and you really are one of the humans, why don't you go and rescue them instead!"**

She felt the rushing of air as the Night Fury sliced through the clouds somewhere nearby, and she plunged after him.

Below her, Stoick was calling frantically for help as Angarr's ship bore down on Gobber and the chief. They were alarmingly close to the island now, and the waves threatened to throw them onto the rocks at any moment. Raynir's galley was stuck motionless in the water, leaning to one side. The broad and deep hull had run aground on a patch of shallows, which the longships had slid over with their shallow draft. The Jarl was once again red in the face, shouting orders at his helpless crew.

Astrid could see the male steering towards the two longships, and a tell-tale whine signalled an imminent attack. Hiccup worked the pedals with what little strength he had left, and together they dove after the black villain. The men on both ships ran for cover as the Night Fury screamed down, the chase abandoned. She watched in horror as he fell faster and faster towards the fragile wooden boats, she could not stop him.

The fireball was released at the last moment as the scaled menace blew past between the two ships. The bright flame smashed through the thin wooden hull and sent the heavy mast spiralling through the air. With an unnatural groan, Stoick's ship began to sink, fast.

Hiccup screamed his father's name as they circled the stricken vessel. There were no arrows from Angarr's ship. The men were either too stunned by the attack or busy rowing away from the sinking ship. Stoick lay unconscious on the deck as the water lapped at his feet. Fighting back the pain across her body, Astrid pulled up to hover above the chief's limp body. Gobber was on his feet, shouting at his student.

"GO Hiccup! Take your father and get back to the Island. Carry him to safety with that beastie of yours!"

"But Gobber, what about you?"

"I'll be fine for a moment lad, besides, I'll bet you can only carry one overweight Viking at a time!" Astrid tilted her head and chirped in agreement, her wings were already burning with the effort of hovering. The old smith grinned, clambering up to the end of the doomed ship.

"But Gobber, with your wooden leg, and hand… Can you even swim?"

"I've survived this long lad, just come back for me soon. Now GO! That's an order!"

Astrid swooped down, wrapping her massive claws around Stoick with a gentle, motherly protection. She laboured for altitude, rising into the night as Hiccup called back to the man who had raised him all his life.

"Good luck Gobber! We'll be back."

"Aye, look after your father for me…"

With a tear in his eye, Hiccup gripped the saddle, and together he and Astrid ferried the chief back towards the island. He was weighing her down and his body was awkward to hold, but she kept a sure grip and flapped for the island as fast as she could. They quickly passed over the cliffs and looked round for a safe place to land. The wind picked up as they descended, the rustle and crack of the trees proving that the storm had not yet fully passed. Astrid lay the man down on a patch of soft moss and grass, and Hiccup leapt off the moment they touched down. She looked around as he checked his father's breathing, making sure to memorise where they left him. It was near what was left of Raven's Point, but slightly inland. In fact, it wasn't too far from the cove where she had been trapped for so long.

"What if the Night Fury comes for him when we're gone?"

 **"** **We have to take that chance, there's no time!"** She nudged him hard and nodded back towards the ships.

"You're right. Stay safe dad, let's go!"

The boy jumped back in the saddle and they took off towards the ocean at record speed. In moments they were upon Angarr's ship, which was drifting nearby, avoiding the wreckage. Stoick's ship had broken in half with only the bow still visible, pointing vertically upwards out of the dark waves with Gobber on top. He waved his hook hand as he saw the dragon approach. There were only a few feet of wood left between him and the water.

"We'll have to come around and grab him at speed. There's no room to land and we can't just pluck him out of the water, not in these conditions"

Astrid growled in agreement. She dived down, keeping up her speed as she pulled a wide circle behind Gobber, lining up her target. They raced towards him, Astrid's talons out wide. Gobber held both his arms high ready to be picked up, the water was up to his ankle. She flared her wings at exactly the right time and prepared to clamp down with her-

*Snap*

Suddenly, she fell.

A bola wrapped around her wings, narrowly avoiding Hiccup. They screamed as they shot past Gobber, a black bullet flying only on momentum and dropping steadily towards the sea. Astrid closed her eyes and waited for the impact that would kill them both. Instead of water, it was wood.

Angarr's deck was splintered as the several ton beast ploughed into the deck, sending shards of wood showering in all directions. Hiccup was thrown from Astrid's back and rolled across the wood before smacking into a bag of stowed clothing, probably saving his life. He lay there, stunned and reeling, gripping his damaged shoulder, open mouthed with unspeakable pain. He didn't notice as Angarr casually strolled up to him, un-sheathing his beautified dagger. His men stood back in awe, too shocked by the sight of a real, tangled Night Fury on their deck. Angarr looked down at the boy before him, shaking his head and tutting.

"Hiccup, Son of Stoick the Vast, rider of dragons, apparently. I would have expected better from the son of that man, but then again we always did, and you always seemed to disappoint us." He gestured towards the captured dragon. "But this… This is an all new level of failure."

Angarr pressed his boot into Hiccup's bloody shoulder, causing the boy to spasm and scream in pain. Astrid began to fight desperately against her restraints, helpless to stop her father from slowly killing her only friend in the world.

"Look at the way it fights, how it tries to protect you. Your bola-thrower was quite effective actually, all we needed to do was rebuild the damn thing and mount it on a ship, and this certainly won't be the last dragon we shoot down. You know how it is, 'first time lucky' and all that…"

He leant down right next to Hiccup, savouring each poisonous word as he poured out his hatred on the boy.

"You know, I can almost understand Stoick now, he was just trying to protect his son. He was fooled just like the rest of us. You were the mastermind, the real evil that was behind all of this. What kind of black magic did you use, to tame a Night Fury?" He spat on Hiccup with abject disgust.

"I bet you've been controlling the dragons this whole time. All of this was your fault. I hope you're happy, now you've destroyed your village, killed your people and ruined your family's name. I hope you understand what you've done, before you die."

He grabbed hold of Hiccup's head and twisted it to look at Astrid, eyes filled with tears.

"I saw it in your mother, all those years ago. She loved the dragons too, did you know that? It didn't stop them, they took her away, just like they took my DAUGHTER!"

 **"** **Dad, dad it's me… I am Astrid. Why can't you just understand what I'm saying? Why can't you understand that I am your daughter?"**

Angarr stared hard into Astrid's eyes, not a hint of kindness or remorse. She knew that even as she pleaded with him, he was picturing a hundred different ways of killing what had once been his little girl.

 **"** **Please dad, remember… just… Oh gods why?"**

"Silence, wretch! Do you know what the worst part is? I can't feel anything anymore, nothing but hatred. She was my everything, the only reason I could face each day on that hellish island. I loved her, I loved Astrid with all my heart, and you took her from me! Your death won't bring me peace, only justice. I'll kill you last and I'll do it slowly, but first you can watch your little friend die. I should have done this a long time ago."

 **"** **NO!"**

Astrid pulled and strained violently against the rope, biting, clawing, twisting and shrieking as it pulled tighter and tighter. Angarr took the knife and placed it against Hiccup's throat, tip first. With his free hand he held the child down. He stared Hiccup straight in the eyes as he gently increased the pressure on the back of the blade.

The rope began to fray, the individual fibres breaking under such immense strength. The bola might have been designed to trap an ordinary dragon, but she was a Night Fury. Seeing the first droplet of blood dribble down Hiccup's throat, Astrid lost all rational thought. With sheer will power, the rope tore apart, and Astrid burst out with a savage roar.

In a single bound she was on her father and had ripped into his chest with her undamaged talons, throwing him across the deck with a crushing blow. Hiccup gasped, grasping his throat with both hands. They came away bloody but his windpipe was still intact. It was just a flesh wound, which was more than could be said for Angarr. Astrid nuzzled into the boy's limp shoulders, relieved that he was still alive. Beaten, bleeding and bruised all over, Hiccup was having a hard time believing it himself. He had barely enough strength to open his mouth.

"It's okay Astrid. I… I'm still here."

She purred with relief, but as the adrenaline wore off, she became painfully aware of what she had done. A deep cough made her turn around slowly, dreading what she might find. Angarr was lying on his back, stunned, eyes wide, dying. If any of his crew thought to intervene, she made them think otherwise with a short bark and a deathly glare. She padded over to her father and stood over his shattered body.

Angarr's torso had been mauled horrifically and his lungs were all but crushed. Blood trickled out of his mouth with each ragged breath. He lay limp and still, his body refusing to obey him. He fixed his eyes with powerless hatred on the creature that stalked into his vision. Anger and despair burned deep within him as the creature that stood triumphant over him. He knew he was dying, and cursed himself for not avenging the death of his daughter. He tried his hardest to cough a few curses at it before he passed.

"Beast… Devil… Astrid…"

The dragon looked taken aback with the last word, shocked even. Angarr couldn't help but wonder if the creature knew what it had taken from him, and what endless sorrow he had felt every day since his daughter's death. He spat out blood as he cursed the demon again.

"You killed, you took… Astrid."

It placed a single paw over his mouth to silence him. Wordlessly, it stooped down to his level until they faced each other eye to eye. Its pupils were slit, but gradually widened. Angarr's eyes widened too, in confusion and fear. He saw something in those dragons' eyes; some emotion he couldn't exactly describe. If there was anger there was no trace of it, only sadness and guilt. There was also hope, happiness and pain, but mostly pain. It looked down at the wound it had made on his chest, gargling softly and blowing on it. It stopped the moment he winced, and once again looked deep into his eyes.

Angarr was crippled with injury and exhaustion. He didn't understand the dragon's behaviour and he didn't want to. He didn't care if it was mocking him with false emotion, he only cared about his own, creeping death and the eternal calm that it would bring him. He allowed his eyes to close as Hiccup whispered something in a low voice.

"Astrid? Astrid?"

 _'_ _Yes, I will think of Astrid, focus on her'_ Angarr thought to himself. He would see her soon in Valhalla and the thought brought him more pleasure then he expected. He breathing became even shallower and he could hardly feel the pain anymore. He thought of his daughter. He thought of Astrid. But why had the boy called her name?

He coughed again, eyes opening with a dull frown as lingering doubts crept over him. His mind worked slowly as his body began to shut down, but he forced himself to think. He searched through his fleeting memories, back to the day when Stoick had been banished. The man had said something about his daughter and the Night Fury. Could Astrid really be?...

For a second, his stomach dropped and his head spun. The realisation would have made him sick, had he not been on the edge of death already. Angarr had never really considered the possibility that Stoick was right about his daughter and the dragon. It was treasonous, insane and impossible, and yet here was a Night Fury standing over him, nuzzling into his neck. He could feel the warm breath on his shoulder, and the cool press of the scales on the sensitive skin of his throat. He had nothing to lose.

"Astrid?..."

The dragon smiled somehow, he could see it in her eyes. She nodded gently, warbling in joyous relief. The rational part of his mind knew better, repeating to itself over and over again that this was _not_ his daughter. Angarr ignored it. There was something different about this dragon. He couldn't explain exactly what or how he knew, but Angarr was sure that this was his lost daughter. With the last of his energy, he lifted a heavy hand up to her head, resting it on her deep black scales. He could feel the muscle, scale and bones of a dragon's body, but he could sense that somewhere deep within lived the soul of his daughter. He was overwhelmed.

For a second he contemplated his own actions, and his cruelty towards her. His heart broke as he imagined her pain, all alone in a body that was not her own, hunted by her own family. The thought of all the hatred he had harboured for his own daughter burned his soul from the inside. He couldn't deal with it, he was too weak. All that mattered was his daughter was alive, and he was holding her in his arms once again. He coughed his last words and Astrid leant close to hear them.

"Sss… Sorry…"

Astrid's eyes welled up, and she pressed her forehead against her father's. He died quickly after that. He choked on his final, bloody breath and passed out never to wake again. He went with the faintest hint of a smile, at peace in the knowledge that he had at least been forgiven.

Astrid stood over the body of her father in silence. It had all happened so quickly, and now he was dead, and she had killed him. She closed her eyes and pressed her head against her father's already cooling brow. A small voice in her head was attacking her, screaming, blaming Angarr's death on her own stupidity, and yet for once she did not revel in self-hatred or pity. She had killed her father to save Hiccup, and she knew it. She felt little for the man lying beneath her, neither anger or love. She felt his loss deeply - how could she not? – but it was nothing compared to what she would of felt if she had lost her beloved Hiccup.

An odd calm passed over her. It felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her back, and she was filled with an eerie sense of freedom and relief. It was as if the human Astrid had finally melted away, replaced with the calm certainty of a Night FuryAs she stood glaring at the rest of the awestruck crew, an odd smile crept across her mouth. None of them could possibly grasp the significance of her father's death, and none of them ever would.

Her smile turned to ash when she saw Hiccup. He was stood in open-mouthed horror and shock, desperately scanning the water below. The other ship was nowhere to be seen. A few shattered pieces of driftwood bumped off the hull of the remaining vessel. There was nothing else.

In the heat of the moment, Astrid had forgotten all about Gobber, but she knew the moment she saw Hiccup's face that the old smith was gone. Even as Hiccup's empty cries rang out across the water, she was forming a plan. She was devoid of feeling, anger or pain; they had all died with her father. All she knew was that the male Night Fury had to be killed.

 **"** **Get on my back Hiccup, we're leaving."** She gestured forcefully with her head. Hiccup was distraught, racked with shock and weak with injury.

"Gobber… I can't see him, he's… I, I don't-"

 **"** **Get on my back."** She gestured again, brushing him with her tail. The boy stumbled, and reluctantly climbed into the saddle, tears streaming down his face. It was all he could do to hold on and work the pedal. With as single bound, they were in the air, and disappeared into the blackness.

* * *

High above the waves and clouds the Night Fury floated, oblivious to the hopes and fears of the humans below him. If he had ever had a name, it had long been forgotten to him. His subjects knew him by differently. They recognised his voice, his scent and his power. He was their commander, in the nest and in battle. He was nothing in comparison to The Mother of course, but she rarely showed her physical presence to her underlings. He smiled to himself as he thought of the others, the flock of dragons that were too dull to realise they were being controlled. The Mother didn't need to be seen, she lived within in all of them, protecting and guiding them in exchange for sustenance.

He had a different agreement, being the highest and greatest of all his kind, second only to The Mother herself. He served her voluntarily, leading the hunts on the humans' homes, supplying her with food and keeping the peace in exchange for a safe home. He had the freedom to make his own path. He had organised the attack on the ships, he had destroyed the Viking village when it became a threat, he had used his soul's own dark powers to create and bind a mate.

It was a dreadful shame that she was hit. Injured so badly on the night of her birth that she had forgotten who she was. A lifetime of happiness awaited them both, and the moment he thought it was his it was snatched away. It was agonising sometimes - to sit in the corner of the nest and watch the others frolic and live together, for each other. They were ignorant, but happy, and he could not help but envy their simple lives. A mate would have given him something else to live for; a hunting partner, a companion who could match his intellect, someone sentient to talk to at last! He might have even had a family, but now it was all gone.

She had become convinced that she was still a human, when she was truly destined for greater things. He almost regretted his harsh words to her, spoken in pain at the heat of the moment. Humans were stupid, cunning and violent. They could think up a million new ways to dismember a dragon, but they lacked the basic empathy of a dragon's soul. That was why they needed to be destroyed. Her life must have been horrible, but she didn't take the chance to escape when she was offered. Now he was waiting for his soul-mate to reappear so he could finally end her misery. Life was almost too cruel.

A quick flash and a blast of air brought him back to reality. The female was there, cresting the clouds to his side and hurling shots at him. He dodged them easily and fired back, pushing all other thoughts from his head to focus on the battle at hand. She was much slower, and barely avoided the flames as they screamed past and burst within the clouds. She still had that stupid little human on her back, helping her to fly despite being badly injured. It would hardly be difficult to take them both down.

He bore down on the couple, his injuries throbbing hard with the exertion, reminding him of the danger that the female still posed. She turned to flee, but he was higher and faster than her. She dived for more speed, but he had more than enough energy to keep up. He would get into close range, so close that he couldn't possibly miss, and there he would finally end this miserable battle.

She was dropping slowly in a shallow dive, working for as much speed as possible, but it was too late. For a second she slipped beneath the clouds but pulled up sharply, climbing vertically as she erupted out of the darkness. He easily followed her, higher and higher into the stars. The female had clearly made an error and it would cost her. He was still going far quicker than her, and would be within clawing distance in a matter of moments. Maybe she had given up? She wasn't even trying to keep altitude, but simply hanging limp as she lost all her speed in the climb.

She was a perfect target, barely moving at all. He would kill her and have enough momentum to glide gracefully by. He began to build up a shot, the terrifying drone filling the air as his mouth filled with fire. He held on for as long as possible, despite the growing pain. He wanted a powerful shot that would knock her out as painlessly as possible, it was the right thing to do.

They were alarmingly close, and the female had stopped completely, hanging weightless in the air. He said a silent prayer for his mate's soul as he prepared to execute her. He watched as she turned in the air, a devilish grin on her face. The male realised his mistake, but too late. She shot a single, quick fireball, tiny compared to the male's, directly into his mouth.

It exploded with a tremendous roar, searing his insides as both shots detonated within his mouth. The blast was funnelled out of his nose and mouth in stream of bright blue flame, sending him spinning out of control. The force of the blast knocked him blind as he spiralled downwards. Had his mouth not been wide open, he would have been killed outright. He could barely breathe with his singed and bleeding lungs, and his mind was blank with pain.

He must have fallen for more than a minute before he regained his senses. He spread his wings just far enough to slow his death plummet as he fell through the lowest clouds. With what little strength and awareness he had, he steered towards the island, away from the black maw of the ocean. He landed hard, tearing through the trees before careening off a ledge.

Astrid flared her wings as they landed in the cove. Hiccup immediately sild off and lay down, utterly spent. Her wings were aching too, but she forced herself to stay awake as she padded towards the still body of the Night Fury. The cove was painfully familiar. Everywhere she looked she was reminded of her days in captivity. The memories of anger and fear caused her to physically flinch. She shuddered as remembered her father, kneeling down by the poolside. But there were good memories too. The rocks where Hiccup used to read to her, the trees that they would sit in, the caves where they would sleep. It seemed like years ago.

It seemed like justice for the male to have landed here, trapped like she was back when it all began. She approached the architect of all her misery, searching for more anger deep within her, and yet she could find none. The deaths of Gobber, her father and countless other Vikings and dragons had left her numb. All she could think about was how peaceful the Night Fury looked, and beautiful too. She hated to admit it, but the sleek scales and wings were gorgeous in their construction, despite the injuries he had sustained. Astrid rarely had a chance to see her full reflection, but it was nothing compared to the magnificence of the real thing. His death was almost a tragedy.

Suddenly, he coughed, groaning softly as he opened his eyes. They were glassy, focusing on nothing for a few seconds, before he caught sight of her. His eyes opened wide with fear and confusion as he tried to get away. He tripped up on his own feet and slammed back down into the dirt. Astrid stood over him, glaring down with malice. He whimpered and weakly covered his eyes with a broken paw.

 **"** **Where am I? What… Who am I? Oh no. Oh my sun and stars no!"**

Astrid was taken aback by the outburst of the still living creature. He voice was warped and muffled with his injury, and every time he spoke blood sprayed out. She took a step back as he continued to speak nonsense.

 **"** **I'm free? I can't believe I'm free! Oh thank you, thank you all!"**

 **"** **Free? What do you mean, what are you talking about? Do you know who I am?"**

 **"** **You. You are the female. I took you, turned you… I am so sorry. Oh why must this happen?"**

 **"** **Who are you?"** Astrid demanded angrily.

 **"** **I… I think my name is … Toothless! Yes, that's it. That is what the human's named me."** The dragon's tail wagged weakly. It tried to sit up, but collapsed back down again.

 **"** **Humans? You are a Night Fury. That is what you are called, not** _ **Toothless**_ **"**

 **"** **But I am see?"** He opened his mouth to reveal a bloody, burned mess. Concentrating, he was able to sheathe and unsheathe his teeth, grinning ridiculously as he did so. **"** **It always amused the humans in the village, until I…"**

 **"** **Until what?"**

 **"** **Until I was taken, controlled. Oh, forgive me. Forgive me ancestors. I... She made me…"**

 **"** **Do what?"** The male had been staring off into the distance, but turned to face Astrid with horrified eyes. They pupils were wide and wet with tears.

 **"** **I killed them all. All those years ago, hundreds of summers now. She has had me ever since…"** Now it was Astrid's turn to look horrified

 **"** **Wait. What are you saying? Vikings and dragons once-"**

 **"** **Just go, get away from this place. There's nothing but pain on these islands. Take your boy and leave."**

 **"** **But wait, tell me more. You can't just-"**

"Astrid look out!"

Stoick stood tall at the edge of the cove, lifting an enormous rock above his head. Astrid screamed in protest as the man heaved the boulder over the edge. It dropped quickly, too quickly for the male to think. It landed on his head with a sickening crack, finishing the job that Astrid had started.

 **"** **NO! You monster!"**

"It's okay Astrid. It's done. It's over."

* * *

 _There we have it_ _, Chapter 19! I do hope you are enjoying this, I know I am. How about all that drama? I wonder what other frivolous shenanigans and tomfoolery the characters will be up to next time? Why don't you leave a comment below with your predictions, suggestions, feedback, sort code, account number, pin and your mother's maiden name._

 _Goodbye_


	20. Chapter 20

Guess what. I do own all the rights to HTTYD! I've been lying to you for 20 chapters. Everyone who has reached this point owes me 60,000 Vietnamese Dong.

 **Chapter 20, and it all draws to a close I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

"That's about it. You know what happened after that."

"Sure, I can fill in the gaps, I think I've got it all. Listen Hiccup, are you sure you want me to write all this down? What if people read it, and copy it and send it to all the other tribes? This is pretty incredible stuff, but it's also kind of dark. Before you know it the whole world would see Berk as the island of black magic and evil spirits and…"

"Just do it Fishlegs, and don't worry about it."

Hiccup leaned back on a pillar of unfinished wood, freshly cut from Berk's vast forests. The roofs of the new buildings were covered with a thin layer of crisp snowfall, slowly dripping in the sun. It would not be long before the high wooden structures were straining under the weight of the snow. The stone walls of Gobber's old blacksmith had yet to be rebuilt, and the two boys could look out on the entire village. Hiccup's mouth was dry after hours of non-stop talking. The floor was littered with broken charcoal pencils. He tried to reassure Fishlegs once again.

"It's better this way, after all, do you think the island will ever forget what happened here?"

"No."

"That's precisely why you should write it, on paper. The people of Berk will be telling this story for generations, I think, with each bard and poet adding their own personal spin. Who knows what the story of 'The girl who became a Night Fury' will sound like in a hundred years. Put it in a book, record the real events, and the truth will live forever."

"Alright, if you insist. It will take some time though."

"What else would you be doing, fighting dragons? They won't be coming back again."

"I suppose your right, but what about Astrid? Don't you think she'll be unhappy about her father being portrayed as… well, a villain?"

"You worry about the story, I'll worry about the Night Fury. I don't think she cares what you write, Astrid's about done with humanity."

The dragon in question lay sleeping nearby in the remains of Hiccup's old workshop, sheltered from the eyes of Berk's vengeful inhabitants by piles of rubble and bent tools. Nobody was stupid enough to outright attack a Night Fury, and they were even afraid to insult it openly. But he could hardly ignore the barely hidden glares, the whispers, or the extra armour that everyone seemed to be wearing as of late. Mothers herded their children inside, doors and windows were bolted, and hands drifted towards weapons whenever the dragon stalked past. He was certain that Astrid heard and saw more than he ever could, she could probably even smell the Vikings' fear.

And yet she still stalked around the village with her eyes glazed over and ears shut tight. She had completely healed physically in the weeks after the battle, but the stress of living among her people had left her sullen and empty. She hadn't spoken with any of her old family yet, and none of them offered to talk to her. These days, she normally only came out at night.

Vikings don't forget, nor do they forgive, and this had become abundantly clear ever since Stoick presented the people with Angarr's body and reclaimed his rightful position at the head of the Hooligan tribe. It was only a matter of hours after the mass funeral for all Berk's fallen warriors before the first fights broke out. Supporters of Angarr and Stoick divided the town into factions, with only the common goal of rebuilding the village keeping them from outright conflict.

"Once you've written it, keep it somewhere safe. There are people who would happily kill each other – and you – over the contents."

Fishlegs stifled a short squeal as he quickly gathered up all of his notes, looking around nervously. The thin pages were dwarfed by his enormous hands and even larger frame. He looked ridiculous as his eyes twitched from side to side.

"Why do you have to leave Hiccup?" He spoke with a low voice. "I know it's a bit strange that Astrid got turned into a dragon, but still! I would feel a lot safer if I knew I had a Night Fury on my side. It feels like the whole island has gone crazy."

"I know what you mean, but just relax. My father will have it all sorted out by spring. Look on the bright side, with me gone, you could be the next chief!"

"Oh, I don't think that will ever happen. If they had to elect a chief on merit alone it would definitely be Astr-" Fishlegs stopped himself mid-sentence, turning red and looking away.

"I would agree with you, and you're allowed to say her name, it's not like she's dead or anything." They turned to look at the sleeping girl, curled up on the floor with her tailfin covering her eyes. Her deep, rhythmic breaths blew dust and wood chippings across the floor. For a moment they just stared.

"I still can't believe it. A real, living Night Fury in our Village. It's so powerful, and yet it looks so peaceful."

"Yeah, and its 'she', not 'it' by the way."

"There's nothing as powerful as a Night Fury. I mean, some other dragons have thicker armour, or they are bigger, or they have more teeth, but the Night Fury has got to be the fastest and stealthiest and the most intelligent and-"

"Whoa, hang on a minute Fishlegs."

"I've been reading up on the book of Dragons again. I never noticed the page on Night Furies before, I always thought it was blank, but there's a picture and everything!"

"Yeah, well I guess the pages must have been stuck together or something…" Hiccup grinned.

They stood together in silence for the best part of a minute, listening to Astrid breathing. Fishlegs gawped in awe at the rippling scales that seemed to both absorb and reflect light simultaneously. The huge boy stood leaning forward, tense and unmoving.

"Would you like to touch her?"

"Oh please Hiccup, more than anything in the world I would like that. The scales look so sleek and smooth but I'm not sure if it will let me, I mean it could kill without even thinking and then-"

"Seriously Fishlegs, you need to calm down. Its Astrid, not some wild animal, remember?"

"Ok then, I guess I'll just…"

Fishlegs stood motionless for a few seconds more, unsure of how to procede. Eventually, curiosity vanquished fear and he edged towards the sleeping dragon with the smallest and quietest of steps. He stretched out his hand to pat Astrid's side, but turned his head away at the last moment, eyes screwed up.

Hiccup sighed and took Fishlegs' surprisingly soft hand in his own, guiding it round to the front of the dragon and onto its snout. A strangled gasp escaped the terrified Viking as his palm finally made contact. Beads of sweat ran down his hairy forearms as he felt the creature stir.

Astrid's eyes slid lazily open and blinked as she adjusted to the daylight. They settled on the hand resting between them, before flicking upwards to focus on the concerned owner of said limb. Her pupils narrowed slightly in confusion.

"Astrid, Fishlegs wanted to say hello before we left, isn't that right Fishlegs?"

"Oh yes Astrid, Ms Hofferson, ah… Ms Astrid Night Fury Ma'am. I just thought that it's been too long since we last spoke, and after everyone thought you we dead, but you weren't…"

Fishlegs tailed off as Astrid looked up at him, bemused. He slowly pulled back his hand.

"Try rubbing behind her ears, she normally likes that. Go on"

"Ok… Like this?"

The Night Fury rolled her neck in content bliss, happy to let Fishlegs have his fun. As it became clear that she would not eat him, Fishlegs became much more confident, massaging the scales with awe. His voice was a whisper still, but more from amazement than fear.

"This is amazing Hiccup, her scales are so smooth. They look cold, but they're actually warm, and dry too! I can't believe I'm actually touching a Night Fury. Wow, look at this…"

He ran his hands down her dragon chin as her mouth stretched open. He held Astrid's whole head in his hands as he gazed upon her empty gums. In his curiosity, he darted into her mouth with his little finger, gently feeling the row of pinkish mounds.

"Hey, you never told me she was _toothless_ , how are they- OW!"

Painfully, her teeth were revealed, shooting out of her gums and slicing Fishleg's finger in the process. Astrid rose slowly, fully awake once again.

"Astrid, look what you've done." Hiccup scolded.

"No, it's okay Hiccup."

He clutched his bleeding digit, looking both shocked and sheepish.

"I shouldn't have put my hand in her mouth, and I definitely shouldn't have called her Toothless."

The dragon responded physically to the name, tensing up with a low growl of warning. Even Hiccup felt a little uncomfortable.

"Sorry about your hand Fishlegs, but we've got to go, haven't we Astrid?" She continued growling.

"What, already? But you need to say goodbye to everyone, and what about your provisions? Can't you at least wait until tomorrow?"

"No Fishlegs, we're not _leaving_ right now, I just have to see my father about something. We'll talk again before we go."

"Right, sorry. I'll see you later."

"Oh and Fishlegs…" Hiccup called over his shoulder as his friend gathered up his notes. "Try not to make it too boring."

Hiccup walked straight to the meeting hall as quickly as he could without appearing to rush. Astrid slunk along beside him, trying to stay low and hidden in the shadows of the new buildings. Despite all her efforts, her midnight camouflage stood out horribly among patches of fresh snowfall, and her tracks were unmistakable. More than a few hateful glares followed them down the street. Curious children peered out from dark windows, whilst others followed quietly behind, daring each other to get closer.

Lurking in an alleyway, a man practically jumped in front of Hiccup, allowing the boy to bounce harmlessly off him and fall backwards. In a flash, Astrid was there, catching her rider's tiny body on her snout and lifting him back in his feet. She bared her teeth and hissed at the attacker. He laughed.

"Better watch where you're going boy, you could run into a traitor if you aren't careful." He spoke with a voice that was deep and thick with the common accent of his people.

Hiccup squinted at the man, searching for any clues as to his identity. He was tall and thick, stronger even than the average Viking. A tight tunic left much of his chest exposed to the bitter cold, and broad shield was slung over his back. Hiccup recognised the large steel helmet from when he was younger. Something about a fight with his cousin, he could remember being beaten up horribly.

A small crowd was starting to gather around them, growing every second. The man stepped aside, his eyes never leaving the Night Fury. In his place stepped Snotlout, Hiccup's childhood tormentor.

"You've got a lot of nerve parading your dragon around like this. Dragons are dangerous, someone could get hurt, and it won't be me."

"This isn't just any dragon Snotlout, this is-"

"Yes I've heard it all before. 'Astrid the Dragon', 'Black Magic', not a 'real' Night Fury. Well it looks pretty real, and in case you hadn't noticed, _nobody_ in this village believes you. That dumb beast follows you around because you feed it, and when you run out of fish it will eat you."

Astrid snapped at Snotlout with a short roar, the crowd gasped and recoiled. He took a pace backwards, but was still close enough to shower Hiccup with spit as he spoke. The shadowy man stood un-phased in Snotlout's shadow. His sword was drawn the moment Astrid moved, and he held her back with the tip of his blade. Snotlout grinned smugly.

"You remember Jorg, don't you? He used to take us hunting back before everyone knew you were a failure. He's the new weapon smith, and he's been teaching me how to fight. We were just discussing the best way to dismember a Night Fury, weren't we Jorg?" The man did not answer.

"Look Snotlout, we don't want a fight. Just let me through and I promise we'll be gone."

"You can't just leave Hiccup, not after what you've done. The entire village, nearly wiped out because of you. There are scores to be settled, debts to be paid."

The warlike boy was turning red in the face and tendons bulged in his neck. He jabbed Hiccup in the shoulder as he spoke, straining over every word. Hiccup winced in pain as dark spots of fresh blood began to grow on his clothing, covering the older brown patches. Snotlout was deliberately targeting his wound.

"It was you and that dragon that got my father killed, don't ever forget that. You were lucky that Angarr died in the battle, so he couldn't tell everyone the truth. He was in on it too. Angarr, Stoick, Gobber, Hiccup and a dragon - all working together to ruin my family and destroy our home."

What? That is utterly ridiculous. Why… How could-"

"Well guess what. You're plan failed Hiccup. With you gone, I'll be next in line to be chief. I'll be in charge, and then I can avenge my father properly. I will hunt you down wherever you go, and then I'll oversee the execution personally."

"Listen Snotlout, I'm really sorry about you father, but you're getting hysterical. Just let us through and we won't bother anyone ever again."

Hiccup tried to slide past, lacking the strength to shoulder through the larger boy. Snotlout grabbed him by the arm as he went, digging his fingernails into Hiccup's skin.

"This is my island Hiccup, and you're running out of friends."

He released him, leaving red marks on his thin forearm. Still cradling his shoulder, Hiccup made his way through the streets towards the great hall. At the sight of the Night Fury, the crowd parted. They didn't even try to hide their whispers. Astrid stared back at Jorg over her shoulder. He matched her gaze every step of the way.

Hiccup sighed in relief as they left the threat of violence behind them. Nobody else dared to stop the Night Fury as they approached the edge of the village, and the edge of the cliffs. The voices died away, leaving only the distant crash of waves, the crunch of snow underfoot and their own gentle breathing. The sun was high, but heavy clouds and a stiff wind threatened another blizzard. Large flakes were already beginning to fall, and thin ice sheets in the bay reminded everyone that sailing season was almost over. Hiccup shivered at the thought of the winter to come. For once, he envied Astrid.

The great hall was freshly rebuilt, and back in Stoick's hands once again. As Hiccup climbed the shallow hill towards the massive wooden doors, they instilled in him the same sense of awe that it they did to all of Berk's children. The thick walls of stone gave the impression that it had been hewn from the very rock on which it stood, and the elaborate carvings created a sense of unimaginable age and wisdom, despite the fact that Hiccup had seen it under construction no less than a month ago. Vikings had an uncanny ability to enchant their buildings with a unique spirit, and it seemed like the old spirit had found its way home.

With no small amount of effort, Hiccup shoved against the doors, which reluctantly creaked open. A rush of warm air engulfed him, pulling him inside without a word. Stoick stood alone at the far end, hands behind his back, staring into the grand fireplace as it crackled with life. He didn't turn around.

"Shut the door Hiccup, warmth is precious."

The doors slammed together, echoing in the empty room. New tables and benches had been installed, freshly that morning. They stood bare, and lacked the old stains and smell of ale that had seeped through the wood for generations. Some things had changed.

Astrid's claws clicked as they walked down the wide aisle. The dragon seemed unusually tense. Hiccup lay his hand on her neck for comfort, but for whose he did not know. Moments before they reached the chief, Astrid stopped abruptly. Looking up into the gloom, her mouth dropped open with an equal amount of astonishment and horror. She cried out in despair.

Mounted above the fireplace, and directly above the chief's huge seat was the head of a Night Fury. Only the scales and skull of the great creature remained, and two blood red rubies in place of it eyes gave it a ferocious appearance. It looked exactly how all Vikings imagined A Night Fury would look; hellish and merciless, and it was pinned to the wall of the great hall.

"Dad… how could you?"

Stoick turned around to see Astrid, low to the ground with murder in her eyes. She was growling with genuine anger. The man sighed, and sat on one of the tables with a weary grunt. His eyes were bloodshot.

"Let me explain…"

Astrid barked loudly, baring her teeth. She bit deep into a bench and tore it in half, splintering the wood and sending shards everywhere. She threw it to the floor and started gouging runes for Stoick to see.

 **You knew! I told you about him and his curse. His name was 'toothless'. You are a monster.**

"I know Astrid, I'm sorry for killing the dragon, I've said so before."

 **Toothless**

"Okay, I'm sorry for killing Toothless, but you understand why. We've been through this before."

"Yeah dad, we understand he was a 'threat' and all, we know you're side of the story."

"Did you see your injuries son? He almost killed you!"

"Yes, we know. But I think Astrid would like to know why you've mounted his head on the damned wall! Like a trophy!" The Night Fury roared in agreement.

"I had no choice son, I'm sorry."

"What do you mean? Of course you had a choice! How could you possibly-"

"Think about it son! You're supposed to be the clever one around here."

Astrid's roars filled the room again, forcing Stoick to soften his tone.

"Look, son. As a leader, I have to make difficult choices, and this was one of the hardest. Gobber and Spitelout are gone…" He paused for a second, coughing. "I don't have anyone left Hiccup, no supporters. This will go a long way to satisfy my people's bloodlust, and finally bring some order back to this wretched island."

"But dad, the dragons aren't coming back. With Toothless gone the raids have basically stopped. All they do is go fishing on the horizon. There's no need to do this, the Dragon War is over, we won!"

"That's exactly why I needed to do it. I know you're angry Astrid but please hear me out. There is no better symbol than the head of a Night Fury to show the people that we really have won. Every day the will look up and see it, and think back to the times when dragon raids smashed the village, week after week. It will bring them peace, even if it doesn't bring me any. If anyone ever accuses us of being traitors, we can at least point to the Night Fury and say: 'There, that is the true source of evil. That is the architect of all our misery, but we have defeated him.' We can only hope that one day they believe our story."

Astrid flipped the wood over and wrote once again. She had calmed down from outright hostility, and the scratches were slightly less furious."

 **I guess you are right. He was behind all –** She gestured to herself **– this. But I still do not like this. And his name was** **Toothless**. She underlined the last word for emphasis before turning to face the door in disgust. The chief spoke yet again.

"Look on the bright side, this is now the only dragon skull on the island, and if this peace holds, it will also be the last."

"What do you mean, Berk is full of dragon skulls. Skulls, bones, teeth. Hel, Rolf even covered his shield with dragon hide. The scales made it practically fireproof if I remember correctly." Astrid snorted in distain. A year before, she would have done anything to get her hands on a dragon-hide shield.

"Not any more. We had to give them all to Raynir, it was the only payment he would accept after I betrayed him."

"Raynir, really? Well I guess that makes sense, he always was a bit… enthusiastic about dragons."

"Indeed, he's going to present them to his people as trophies from the 'Great Dragon Hunt'." Stoick scoffed. "If only he knew, if only it were that easy. I still think he would have killed us all if one of his men hadn't captured a Terrible Terror alive. He wants us to send him captured dragons every year as an 'offering of goodwill and friendship between fellow clans'. I think that's how he put it."

"Wow, he really has no idea. But I guess that's a problem for another time."

"Aye, it certainly is son, and you won't be here to see it, so I've heard."

Hiccup tried to smile, but just ended up grinning awkwardly through clenched teeth. He looked away from his father, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, about that. Are you sure you're okay with that. I mean, you've never really trusted me to do anything, and who knows what kind of damage we could do, out in the world."

Astrid turned her head around, wanting to see Stoick's reaction. They had not yet confronted him about it, but just dropped hints around town and let rumour do the rest. Stoick knelt down and looked his son square in the eyes. At that moment, they may as well have been the only two in the world. His eyes were wet.

"Hiccup, you're the only one I've got left. Your mother all those years ago, and now Spitelout, and Gobber… I know he was just like a father to you, the father I never was. Oh Gods, I'm so sorry Hiccup."

Stoick looked towards the floor as tears began to flow. He didn't want his son to see him like this, but there was nothing he could do. He had lost his brother and his best friend. In all his efforts to keep the village from chaos and collapse, he had yet to fully register the depth of his pain.

Hiccup was just like his father, bottling up his emotions so tightly it hurt. But he had been close to Gobber too. He had never seen Stoick like this before, and a part of him was shocked that a man so steadfast beak down before his very eyes. He had always wanted his father to open up to him, but not like this.

Hiccup leant into his father's embrace, tears streaming. Between sobs, he managed to cry out.

"But why Gobber dad, why _him_? What did he ever do to anyone? He was with us all the way, through everything. He would have done anything for us, and now he's gone!"

"He would have never told you son, but he loved you. He loved you like I should have, Oh Gods forgive me!"

They held each other in mutual misery, expressing the pain that they had been denying. For Stoick, it was a lifetime of mistreating his son that affected him most, gnawing at his soul and mocking his sadness. For Hiccup, the bittersweet happiness of his father finally connecting with him was twisted by the pain of losing lifelong mentor. He could hardly stand. Astrid was there to catch him.

She was still enraged with Stoick, but the father-son embrace seemed to melt her heart, and she would do anything for Hiccup. She nudged up against the boy, and with a single leathery wing she wrapped around them both. Only the crackling fire and muffled wind could be heard. There they stayed for a long time, huddled against the harsh, cold world that lay beyond the doors, the only mourners of an old, crippled smith whose body was never found.

Stoick stood up slowly, holding his son closely by the shoulders. Astrid's retracted her wing and moved to the sitting position. Both she and Hiccup looked up to the man as he spoke, his words assured and calming.

"We cannot ask why, Hiccup. Death takes as she pleases, it is a fact of the world we live in. We have to believe that there is a reason for everything, a purpose for our lives. My grandfather told me Hiccup, hours before he passed, 'embrace life, embrace living, or you will live in constant fear of death, which is as good as being dead already'."

"I guess that makes sense. What happened to him after he said that, I never asked."

"Well Hiccup…" said Stoick with an unfaltering tone. "After he had told me that, your great-grandfather drowned in the bath."

Hiccup couldn't help but stifle a laugh, so astonishing was the claim. Slowly, in between the tears, a smile spread across Stoick's face, and the three of them burst out laughing.

"What! He drowned, in the bath?"

"I know, and they called him the greatest dragon killer of his generation!"

They laughed together at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. The deaths of Gobber, Spitelout and Angarr, the bizzare three-way fight with dragons and Vikings, the political upheaval within the tribe and the fact that a real life Night Fury was sat chuckling deeply in the middle of the great hall. For a moment, none of it seemed real, and there was nothing that any of them could do but laugh.

It took a few minutes for them all to calm down. Hiccup was still snorting whilst Astrid convulsed on the floor. Their eyes were still red, but they were not all tears of pain. Stoick knelt next to his son once again.

"Of course I'm happy to for you to go. Well not quite 'happy', but you know what I mean. Before this all, I would never have let you off the Island, and never by yourself. But I suppose you're not alone anymore. I think Astrid can protect you better than I ever could, judging from what I've seen, and I know she won't let anything happen to either of you." Astrid snorted in agreement and nudged Hiccup. Stoick continued, "I don't know what you'll do out there, but there's nothing left for you here, I can see that. You should go whilst you still have your youth, both of you. Whatever happens Hiccup, I've never been so proud to call you my son." Hiccup was struck by his father's words. He had never expected his father would ever be proud of him.

"Thanks dad… It means a lot. It really does."

Hiccup turned to follow Astrid out of the hall, Stoick looking after them. Just as they reached the door, the chief cried out.

"One more thing. Jarl Raynir also wanted to me to take on two of his warriors as my personal guard, it was part of the peace deal. I don't suppose you've seen, Helgi or… Shelly? I think that was his name."

"Clamm, Helgi and Clamm."

"So you do know them?"

Boy and dragon smiled knowingly at each other. Stoick would be too busy to miss them when they left.

"Sorry dad, I have no idea."

* * *

It was only a matter of days before they left the village. Preparations had been made, and they were equipped for a long journey. Hiccup had rebuilt the saddle and the tail-fin, strengthening it to the point where it was almost as strong as the scales it replaced. Hiccup himself had a new outfit, thick fur and leather armour to withstand the deep winter, or flying at high altitude. He had made it all himself in the new forge, and for the first time he didn't have to hide his work from Gobber. He would never get to show it to him either.

Hiccup had filled his pouches and pockets with as much dried meat as the village could spare, along with tools and materials to adjust the fin. He had also packed a stack of empty paper sheets, so that they might map the world as they explored it. It was early morning, and their exited breathing rose in clouds above them.

Only two came to see them off, Stoick and Fishlegs. The rest of the village was either sleeping, didn't know or didn't care. It was mostly the latter.

"Don't be gone too long Hiccup, I could really use your help with the book if you ever come back."

"I'm sure we'll be back one day Fishlegs, but I'm not making any promises. Just relax, things will be better once we leave."

"But won't it be dangerous? Just you two against the whole world!"

"Dangerous? Sure, but Astrid is a Night Fury, remember?" Astrid laughed deeply, reassuring Fishlegs more than Hiccup ever could.

"Point taken."

The sun was slowly lifting off the water and the sea began to shimmer as brightly as the snow. Hiccup was about to mount the saddle, but Stoick grabbed him by the shoulder one last time.

"Be safe Hiccup, and know that I always love you."

"I love you too dad."

"I know all these years, I haven't been… I've tried-"

"Dad, it's okay, I understand."

They embraced one last time, but they didn't waste any more words. Stoick patted the Night Fury on the head as Hiccup climbed the saddle. Astrid looked thoroughly unimpressed.

With a roar, they lifted off into the sky, quickly gaining height. They circled round the village that had been their home for their entire lives. Diving down, they swept over the roofs and windows, scaring people awake with a violent rush of air. They blew past Stoick, knocking his helmet off as they passed. His deep laughter was the last thing they heard as they left the building behind and soared.

Below them, the island glimmered, covered with a thick layer of snow and ice. Following the coast, they saw nothing to disturb the perfect tranquillity. The calm sea was empty for miles around.

"So I guess we go south like we planned, try to outrun the cold?" Astrid chirped cheerily, agreeing with her rider. Hiccup looked back at Berk and sighed.

"Do you really think they'll be alright? I just don't know if the dragons are really gone."

 **"** **They'll be fine. The dragons are nothing without the Night Fury, Berk will be safe."**

"I suppose the dragons won't be back, you're right I think. Still, I just get the feeling that something still isn't right. The male Night Fury's trance just seemed… unnatural, and there was that dream you had back when it all began." Astrid considered what he said, but responded with the same reassuring tone.

 **"** **I wouldn't worry about it. A lot of crazy things have happened to us over the past few months**."

"I guess I'm just paranoid."

They flew further over the wild side of the Island, enjoying the sun. Wordlessly, and to Hiccup's great surprise, Astrid rolled over to dive.

"Whoa, what are you doing?"

In moments, they had reached the ground. Astrid skimmed across the trees before she came across the cove. The trees above had kept some of the snow from reaching the pit, but the lake was completely frozen over. The body of the Night Fury had been moved, but something else stirred down the far end of clearing. Hiccup saw why they had landed.

A Terrible Terror was sat under a tree, crying out and nursing a broken wing. It was dark green, would have been completely invisible if it wasn't making such a racket. Astrid padded towards it, but it saw her coming, and quickly disappeared behind the trunk.

"Wait a minute Astrid, what if I try?"

Hiccup slid off the saddle and walked towards the tree. He didn't try to crouch or sneak, he wanted the dragon to know he was coming. It was huddled in a thin notch between two roots, pressing itself against the bark. He knelt down.

"Hey little guy, you've done some damage to your wing there." He slowly extended a hand, but the creature began to panic, scratching the tree in an effort to flee.

"Okay then, what about this…"

Hiccup tried again, but this time closed his eyes firmly and looked away. He inched his palm closer and closer. It was no more than a minute, but it felt like an age. Finally, the dragon leaned out to sniff the hand, and before long Hiccup's palm was pressed against its tiny forehead.

Astrid was stood impatiently, trying to see what was going on without disturbing Hiccup's plan. After a while, he emerged from the trees, cradling the Terror in his arms and gently stroking its head. It was still crying out, but Astrid could see it was from pain, not fear. It was only in Hiccup's arms because it clearly wanted to be there. She raised an eyebrow in confusion.

 **"** **What are you going to do with it?"**

Hiccup didn't answer straight away, but simply stared down at scaled creature that was warming his hands. A stupid smile grew across his face as a plan formed in his head.

 **"** **Uh, Hiccup? What are you doing?"** His eyes shot up and he grinned at Astrid ecstatically.

"Astrid, I have an idea and it may seem crazy. Astrid, we are going to train a dragon…"

 **The End .**

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 **"Well that was a terrible ending!" I hear you cry. Its ok though, the rest of the story was worse. Seriously though, thank you all for your time and patience. I wouldn't have done this without all your support. If you did like the story, tell your friends. If you didn't, then don't tell your friends. If you don't have any friends, get some, or shoot down a Night Fury, whatever works.**

 **I don't think there are any major 'loose' ends that aren't at least addressed, although feel free to berate me horribly. If you do see this story updated, it is because I am rewriting many of the early, terrible chapters. I'm not planning on a sequel, but if I do ever do one, it will be a separate story. Feel free to send suggestions.**

 **Anyway, have a ruddy good time, and I'll see you all after the imminent apocalypse.**


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